


an air of mystery

by kayden (kristyn)



Series: that one human au for undertale [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Human AU, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Mettaton, i just want everyone to be happy, trans!mettaton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristyn/pseuds/kayden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mettaton is kicked out of his house on his 18th birthday, Sans and Papyrus take him in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. outpranked

As Papyrus threw his backpack into the passenger seat of his red 2001 Nissan, he noticed a sheet of computer paper lodged in his windshield.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed at it with his gloved hand and quickly entered the vehicle to escape the cold.

The entire sheet was blank. No, wait. At the bottom, in tiny printed Comic Sans letters was written: “meet me at work”

Sans was a fool; they had each other as contacts in their cellular devices, after all!! Why on EARTH would he choose this method of message delivery?!

...Would be the thing he would certainly say if he had passengers in his car.

But since Papyrus was alone, he giggled and threw the paper joyously behind him. The air of mystery! It beckoned him so! Sans knew just the right ways to keep his brother on his toes. Papyrus was simply dying to know what he wanted to talk about. Mystery, action, adventure! The possibilities were endless. Except they really weren’t and this was probably a setup for another great Sans prank such as the ketchup thing last time. This is Sans we’re talking about.

Regardless, excitement filled Papyrus’s heart. He drove the speed limit, however, no matter how badly his heart wanted to step on it. After all, sometimes Sans pranks other people and simply wants Papyrus to come so he can watch. Which is something Papyrus greatly appreciated. He loved watching people get duped even more than he enjoyed being duped.

He parked carefully in front of the hot dog truck, which had made permanent residence some five years ago, and had luckily slipped under the city planner’s radar. One day Sans’s boss had simply never shown up for work and was never heard from again, so Sans took over full time. Well, part-time. A quarter-time. He worked when he felt like it. These hot dogs were exclusive.

Papyrus was in his second and final year at the local community college, and normally when he was done for the day, he drove on home to he and Sans’s humble abode in scenic Snowdin.

But, of course, today he kicked open the door, exited the vehicle, gently closed the door, and approached the closed metal gate of the food truck, as he so did a couple times every other week. He knocked in the secret special way upon which the brothers agreed (or rather, Papyrus agreed. Papyrus was starting to think he was the only one who knocked on Sans’s window in a special way, so Sans probably never bothered to learn what it actually was), and moments later the gate creaked up merely an inch. Papyrus sighed in a way that was understood to be a sigh of excitement, disguised as a sigh of annoyance. Papyrus preferred his actions to be cloaked in an air of mystery, while also being completely predictable and transparent.

A blue-sleeved hand slowly creeped out under the gate.

“Pay up.”

Papyrus sighed again, louder, as the people behind the gate could not presently see his egregious eyeroll that he did anyway.

“Frisk, I only have my credit card. Please put my brother on.”

“One second.”

He tapped his long, spindly fingers against the crisp metal as Frisk pretended to whisper to Sans.

The hand returned. “He’s busy. Give us the paper.”

Papyrus suppressed the urge to giggle. He composed himself and did as they said, running to the car and retrieving the note from the backseat.

He carefully slipped it under the gate, where it was snatched up. Moments later, a sticky note was passed below and stuck to the counter.

“ok you can open it up the rest of the way now,” it read.

He did so, grasping the bottom and heaving upward. Hands up all the way, still holding up the gate, he got one peek at Frisk and Sans holding confetti guns before the realization and the confetti hit simultaneously. He staggered backward, dropping the gate with a tumultuous slam, laughing so hard he nearly choked on the confetti. He shook his head, watching the paper fall from his hair. He giggled. He continued brushing it off his person.

“We got you,” Frisk announced as they kicked open the side door of the truck.

“You got me.”

“It was Frisk’s plan,” Sans said, beaming down at them in pride.

Papyrus paused his brushing. “Their plan? So you didn’t have anything planned.”

Sans nudged Frisk. “Isn’t my brother so quick?” Frisk nodded. To Papyrus he said, “You’re right. I brought you here to talk. Also you’re my ride. Let’s talk and drive. Frisk, you good?”

Frisk nodded. “I’ll clean this up. Toriel is picking me up at five.”

They waved, and the brothers waved back as they got into Papyrus’s car, Sans carefully moving Papyrus’s bulging backpack to the seats behind them.

Papyrus backed out of the dirt driveway and continued on the main road.

“So what do you need to talk about?” Papyrus asked, glancing briefly at his brother so the latter understood that the former was interested in engaged conversation, but also more interested in keeping his eyes on the road and not crashing.

“Mettaton.”

Papyrus’s heart lurched. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Oh, yes. He’s nice.”

A pause.

“He got kicked out.”

Papyrus gasped, then groaned in grief for his friend.

He flashed his eyes at Sans again. “And where is he staying now?”

“Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I know you’re going to get mad. Or at least, you’ll get all frazzled and pretend to be mad at which point it will be apparent to everyone within a fifty foot radius that you’re actually really excited about it.”

“Sans, stop beating around the bush! Where will our dear friend Mettaton stay?”

“Our place, Papyrus.”

The tires squealed as Papyrus sped to a stop on the shoulder of the road. Cars behind them beeped. Sans put it in park for him.

“WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME, BROTHER? BROTHERS NEED TO LOOK OUT FOR EACH OTHER!” He tapped his fingers rapidly against the steering wheel. “Now I’m going to have to move all my replica cars! And all my computer games! And uhh, we’ll need to buy more spaghetti! WE CANNOT HOUSE OUR FRIEND! Our couch! Is far too uncomfortable! He deserves better, WHY NOT ALPHYS?”

Sans covered his mouth, his back shaking. After he composed himself, he ran a hand over his close-cropped hair and gave a toothy grin. “He didn’t want to impose. After all, a newlywed couple don’t take too kindly to house guests, even when they’re family.”

Papyrus tugged at his hair. “Well well well well well what about Napstablook?”

“Blooky isn’t in a good situation either, Papyrus, remember? Besides, Mettaton told me the plan. The plan is to stay for maybe a month or two, until he’s back on his feet and makin’ money, and then he and Napstablook are gonna rent a place together.”

Suddenly calm, Papyrus started the engine. “Oh, well, when you say it like that it’s not too bad, is it? This is okay. I’m okay with this. It’s fine. _I’m_ fine!”

He gripped the steering wheel still.

“Gonna drive, bro?”

“Certainly.” And he did.

Papyrus parked in the driveway but made no move to get out.

“He’s not here now, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sans said, unlocking his own door and getting out. “Come on.”

Taking a deep breath, Papyrus got out. He reached into the back and grabbed his backpack before shutting the door and locking it using his trusty button.

He ignored the sidewalk; instead enjoying the feel of the thin layer of sleet from earlier that day crunching underfoot. As he followed Sans inside, he was careful to remove his now wet boots. So dedicated to the current task as he was, he did not notice the shape on the couch mere yards from him until it moved.

Using his trained reflexes, he snapped upright, grabbing an umbrella. Before he could properly wield it, Sans took hold of his arm, removing the object.

“Oh, did I say he wasn’t here yet? My mistake.”

Papyrus’s eyes widened as his face flushed. “YES, IT IS YOUR MISTAKE!”

Struggling to hold in his laughter, Sans shushed him, pulling his brother past the couch and into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I lied. Consider it another prank.”

“What a bad prank! It made me feel… weird! The confetti made me feel happy! I’ve concluded; Frisk is better at pranks than you! Frisk has outpranked you! In fact, I’m going to call them up right now and tell them the good news! Perhaps later we can go to their house and make spaghetti for them!” He pulled out his cell phone. Sans took it from him.

“And we’d bring Mettaton along.”

Papyrus’s eyes narrowed. “Yes….”

“Good! Then it’s a date.” He began dialing, despite Papyrus’s protests. “Frisk and I will go out and buy fancy breadsticks while you and Mettaton cook in close quarters with warm steam billowing between the two of y--”

“NO!” He knocked the phone out of Sans’s hand, and it hit the floor, going black.

The brothers stared at each other for a moment. From the next room, the sound of Mettaton stirring could be heard. Sans and Papyrus headed toward him.

Sans sat on the couch piece opposite Mettaton and turned on the TV. Papyrus sat on the armchair beside him, crossing his legs and focusing on whatever weird show Sans turned on.

Mettaton sat up, fixing his hair.

“Hey, buddy, how goes it?” Sans asked, glancing his way.

Their friend took a deep breath. “I’ve been better.” He flashed a smile at Papyrus.

Papyrus smiled back. “Happy birthday, Mettaton.”

Mettaton laughed. “Thank you, friend.” He began gathering his blankets.

“I got it,” Sans offered, holding out his arms. Mettaton tossed the quilts and Sans left the room with them.

“Rough night?” Papyrus asked.

Mettaton tucked his hair behind his ear. “They told me I had until the end of the month, but….”

Papyrus leaned forward. “But?”

“They caught me with Shyren! We’re not even serious. Oh, she knows that too, don’t worry. But my parents don’t.”

Sans came back in, and Mettaton glanced briefly at him before going on.

“They didn’t even let me pack anything, but I waited at the park and came in through the window later.”

“That’s heavy,” Sans said after a moment.

Mettaton sighed, sinking back down on the couch. “I’m just worried about Blooky. Now their parents are going to be far stricter with them, because of me.”

“What about your plan?” Papyrus asked. “You’ll get them out sooner rather than later, yes?”

Mettaton nodded. “I’m just worried,” he repeated.

There was a moment of silence.

“Want to go to Frisk’s for spaghetti?” Sans asked.

“Absolutely,” Mettaton answered.

Papyrus grinned. He met eyes with his brother, silently thanking him.

**  
**


	2. criminal squirrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dont be upsetti, have some spaghetti

Papyrus jumped up and got his phone from the kitchen. The battery had skitted away under the fridge, but he easily retrieved it and turned the hunk of junk on. Honestly, he would have preferred never having a cell phone! He is an excellent runner and he has an even more excellent car; why would he choose listening to a friend’s voice from a distance, when he could be there in person in mere minutes?

This is how he previously conducted business, but after too many unannounced visits at Undyne and Alphys’s place, and accidentally witnessing things he wished he could forget, Undyne dragged him to the Verizon store and got him the cheapest thing money could buy. He enjoyed the antenna. But that was ALL.

Once the device booted up, he clicked through his contacts until he found Frisk. They picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Papyrus! I got a ride, don’t worry.”

“Oh, excellent! But that is not why I called! My brother and my house guest would like to have spaghetti with you!”

They laughed. “Why so formal? Come on over! Toriel was just wondering what to make for dinner, anyway.”

“I’LL SEE YOU SOON!”

“Papyrus, you don’t have to shout when you say goodbye, we’ve been through this!”

He hung up.

The three of them decided to walk, as Toriel and Frisk did not live far.

They had reached the end of the street when Papyrus cleared his throat.

“So, Mettaton! What would you like to do for your birthday?”

Mettaton chuckled, shielding his eyes from the setting sun. His black hair blew in the brisk wind.

“Just this is fine.”

“Well, that’s unexpected,” Sans remarked. “You usually go all out.”

He shrugged. “Recent events sort of spoiled the day for me. I’d rather be in good, reserved company.”

Papyrus shook his head. “That’s unfair! Your terrible parents couldn’t even wait a week for the end of the month?”

Mettaton said nothing, only shrugged again.

“Well. I would have let you stay,” Papyrus said.

“You ARE letting me stay!” Mettaton said, laughing high and clear, so unlike how he laughed around other people that Papyrus was shocked for a moment. But he found it contagious, and soon all three friends were laughing.

Mettaton wiped his eyes, tears from the laughter dotted on his cheeks. But he kept wiping, and the tears kept coming. He stopped walking.

Papyrus’s smile faded as he realized his friend had stopped. He turned to face him. Sans watched from ahead.

“I--I’m sorry. Oh, dear. This is no way to act around such good friends,” said Mettaton to the ground as he continued wiping his face with the sleeve of his coat. Traces of black eye makeup came away on the gray striped fabric.

“That’s nonsense!” Papyrus said after a moment, slapping his friend on the back. He hiccuped and let out a sob.

Papyrus continued. “Close friends are SUPPOSED to blubber all over each other! It’s gross. But it’s okay! Who else are you going to cry and drip all over?”

Mettaton’s eyes grew wide and he slapped a hand over his nose. “Am I seriously dripping?”

From ahead, Sans laughed. He turned and led the way. “You’re good.”

Papyrus gave Mettaton a thumbs up. Mettaton shakily smiled.

“Thanks.”

**  
**

When the three of them arrived at Frisk’s house, Mettaton quickly excused himself to the bathroom.

He ran the water, splashed it on his face. Stared at his reflection. His eyeliner from two days ago was smudged underneath his bottom lid, and the crusty mascara ran even below that because of the crying. He took some tissues from the box atop the toilet lid and worked at removing the mess.

That was the first cry he’d had so far.

It had all happened so quickly.

Shyren had wanted to move away with him. He’d laughed in that lilting charming voice everyone loved, and told her she’d have to marry him first. She’d pushed him over onto the floor, swinging her leg over him, and said--

“Okay.”

When his father kicked down the door and screamed at them both to leave, he didn’t even have time to grab his boots.

He turned off the faucet. Just then, his ears pricked at the sound of a soft knock.

He took a deep breath. Let it out. Opened the door.

His heart skipped.

“I came to see if you were okay,” Papyrus announced, chest out.

Mettaton smiled. “I am now. Thank you, Papyrus. For everything. For what you said, for letting me stay with you two, for…. just thank you.”

Papyrus beamed. “The great Papyrus doesn’t stand idly by when friends are in trouble!”

Mettaton stepped close, flicking Papyrus’s scarf. “Of course he doesn’t. But could he possibly stand over there just for a second so I can get out?”

The taller boy coughed in embarrassment, his cheeks flaring pink for a moment. “Oh, yes, he will.”

And he did.

**  
**

Hours later, Mettaton stretched out on Toriel’s couch, eyes shut, stomach full of spaghetti. Flickering light from the TV in the otherwise dark living room danced on his lightly closed eyelids, and soft footsteps approached.

“I’m awake,” he mumbled.

“I know,” Papyrus answered. A moment later, pressure dipped down beside Mettaton’s legs. He opened his eyes at Papyrus’s hunched form, the latter’s hands propped up under his chin and his features cast into shadow from the light of the TV.

“Sans is asleep.”

Papyrus nodded. “Everyone is. I cleaned up. Would you like to come home with me?”

Mettaton nodded. The last thing he wanted was to impose upon Toriel and Frisk.

He tugged his boots on, and then the pair left the house.

Papyrus gazed up at the sky as they came down the front steps. “Don’t worry. I left a note for Sans.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Good!”

It was three AM and the grass was wet underfoot. Mettaton wanted to walk on the sidewalk (his boots were expensive after all!!!), but one look at Papyrus’s smiling face and he figured it wasn’t the end of the world. There are worse things in the world than wet designer boots. Few things, but things nonetheless.

Without warning, Papyrus ran ahead, across the street and into the neighbor’s front yard.

“I know a shortcut!” he whispered to Mettaton, his gloved hands cupped around his mouth.

Mettaton giggled, looking both ways before crossing and joining Papyrus. “You’re going to cross through strangers’ yards? Aren’t you Mr. Security Guard?”

Papyrus shifted his eyes, smiling. “Just think of it as a free service!”

He began making his way to the backyard, Mettaton fast behind him.

“You mean free… guarding?”

“Sometimes there is a particularly criminal squirrel or raccoon! I chase it away; we all benefit from this arrangement.”

He effortlessly hopped the fence separating the yards. Mettaton glanced over at the moonlit patio they had crossed. No creatures in sight. He laughed.

“And I take it these people aren’t aware of said arrangement?” He grabbed at the fence, jamming his boot through a link.

When he joined his friend on solid ground, Papyrus shook his head, sticking out his chest. “Nope.” He grinned. “Undyne taught me.”

“Suddenly this all makes sense.”

Papyrus turned on his heel, stepping over a sleeping Doggo and continuing on through the freshly mowed grass and lawn ornaments.

The next fence was taller than the chain link fence; it was wooden and provided no footholds.

“Boost me?” Mettaton asked.

Papyrus nodded, determined, and bent down on one knee.

“How romantic of you,” Mettaton said, winking. Papyrus’s eyes widened as he began stammering. “Oh, I’m only kidding.”

He placed his heel gingerly in Papyrus’s grip, and the latter lifted him up. Mettaton grasped at the pointy wooden tops, swinging one leg over.

“I’m going to jump!”

And he did.

Once he landed, he looked around, wondering how Papyrus would get across. He was about to ask when Papyrus himself came soaring over the fence, landing on the wet grass like the Hulk. Or Captain America. Thor, maybe? Mettaton could never quite keep track of all those fictional, rippling abs.

Papyrus stood up, brushing himself off. “Shall we?”

“Are we almost there?”

Papyrus pointed past the house they were at, and across the road. He was explaining how close they were, but Mettaton couldn’t hear. His mouth dried up, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Papyrus….” he croaked.

Papyrus stopped speaking, turning around to acknowledge his friend. He did a double take.

“Mettaton, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t you see?”

Papyrus cocked his head in confusion, but in an instant it was clear to him. He spun around and took in his surroundings.

“Is this…. your house?” Mettaton was silent. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t even recognize it in the dark--”

“It’s okay. Let’s just get the hell out.”

Before he finished speaking, a light flicked on upstairs. Papyrus took Mettaton’s hand, running around the hedges, down the curb, across the street. Past the park, two more streets, the EZ Mart, until they were bending over, breathless, in front of Sans and Papyrus’s house.

“Maybe I should… stop doing that….” Papyrus panted.

Mettaton lifted his head, smiling. “I had a fun time.”

Papyrus smiled back, letting go of his hand. “Let’s get inside before we get covered in dew.”

“That’s not really possible, we haven’t been outside long enough.”

“You spend too much time with your sister!”

“Papyrus, that wasn’t even really science, that was just common sense.”

“Just get in the house!”

Mettaton fake saluted. “As you wish.”


	3. hon hon hon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baguette

Papyrus woke up the next morning to soft sunlight filtering through the curtains, and the smell of bacon.

His heart skipped when he caught the time. Just after nine!! HE WAS LATE!!

He scrambled out of bed, wildly making his bed because a messy bed won’t do, even in a rush! He pulled on a pair of jeans from his drawer and ran out his bedroom, tying his bowtie.

He stopped short at the sight of Mettaton at the stove, wearing boxer shorts, a white tee, and Papyrus’s apron that he knew proclaimed to, “KISS THE CHEF! NYEH HEH HEH!”

Mettaton turned around, beaming. “Morning, sunshine!”

Papyrus felt his face flush. He smiled back. Then he remembered his terrible rush. He screamed and ran out of the kitchen, leaving behind a shocked Mettaton.

“I’M LATE!” he explained at the front door, as he pulled on his boots.

Mettaton wandered over, leaning against the wall. Papyrus, under different circumstances, would have found that he rather enjoyed this nonchalant side of Mettaton. He would have liked the way he tucked his hair behind his ear, so one could see both of his deep brown eyes at once. This slouching, no makeup, no mischievous glint, no glamour version of his friend would be quite appealing, quite interesting to him. Yes, all of this would be true; all of these things he surely would have noticed if he weren’t so preoccupied with BEING LATE!!

He hopped around on one boot as he struggled to shove the other on, ultimately falling on his tailbone. He yelped and Mettaton laughed, that same high laugh as before.

“Do you have class or something?” Mettaton asked.

“Yes! At 9! It’s PAST 9 now!”

“Doesn’t it take like a half hour to get to the school? You’ll be like 45 minutes late by the time you get there. That’s like, the entire class.”

Papyrus paused. “Oh. I suppose you have a point there.”

“Stay.”

Papyrus looked up as Mettaton offered his hand. Papyrus took it, standing up and rubbing his rump where it hit the linoleum.

“You think I should… skip class?”

Mettaton shrugged. “Why not? You basically already missed it. Besides, I made pancakes and bacon! Come have some! Sans isn’t back yet.”

Papyrus’s stomach growled. He looked down at it. “It appears I am hungry.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He let go of Papyrus’s hand and headed back over to the kitchen. He didn’t even strut, yet he still looked good shuffling past in his tight shorts. Papyrus would have noticed the excellent view Mettaton provided if he… Well, it appears he didn’t have an excuse not to notice Mettaton’s choice bottom. So he did. He very much did.

He finally followed his friend, putting his hand on his hips and surveying the cooking station when he arrived. Eggs. Milk. Something powdery. Flour? A plate of already-made pancakes rested precariously on the tall counter.

“You can have some,” Mettaton offered.

“Nonsense! I’ll help you cook. We’ll eat together.”

Mettaton chuckled. “Suit yourself, friend.”

He poked at the bacon.

“I didn’t even know we had bacon,” Papyrus remarked, looking under the counter for another apron. He finally decided on “HON HON HON! BAGUETTE!”

“I actually picked some up at the EZ Mart,” Mettaton said. He paused. “I picked up an application, too.”

Papyrus stopped tying his apron. “You are applying _there_?”

Mettaton turned. “Huh? Is something wrong with that? I thought for sure it was a smart choice! It’s nearby, it has flexible hours--”

“W-well, I just thought maybe….”

Mettaton lifted an eyebrow.

“WELL, there’s an open position at the guard station….”

Mettaton laughed, high and loud. “Oh, Papyrus, I couldn’t be a guard! I’ve got the body of a baby butterfly.”

“Aren’t baby butterflies just caterpillars?”

“And you made fun of ME for my scientific knowledge.”

Papyrus chuckled as Mettaton flipped the bacon onto a plate, balanced carefully on the edge of the counter adjacent to the stove. He opened another package, laying the strips on the griddle.

“What about the lab?”

Mettaton sighed. “I don’t want Alphys to do me any more favors. She’s been so good to me.”

“Who said it would be a favor?” Papyrus said, reaching into the fridge for his favorite carton of orange juice. “You know Alphys! If you ask, she’ll make sure not to give you any special treatment! She’ll treat you just like any other applicant.”

“That’s probably easier to do with friends. But I’m her little brother! I wouldn’t want to put her in that position.”

Papyrus sighed. “Ah, I see your point. It’s too bad! We could have worked together.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He failed, a lot.

Mettaton clicked his tongue. “Oh, shush. We could still carpool, probably.”

There was silence, save for the sizzling of the bacon. Mettaton poked at it with his spatula.

“Needs oil,” he mumbled.

He got on his tip toes, opening the top cabinet in search of canola oil. However, Papyrus remembered too late that it was Sans who organized the cabinets, which is to say, the cabinets do not get organized.

A cascade of bottles, dishes, rags, various dried fruits, dog treats, boxes of spaghetti, cleaning supplies, and more aprons came crashing down on Mettaton, who, caught by surprise, fell backward when he slipped on a bottle of Febreze.

“Mettaton!” Papyrus cried, instinctively sliding across the kitchen floor on his knees and catching his friend.

Still shocked, Mettaton looked up at Papyrus, his mouth open and his eyes shining.

“How romantic,” he whispered.

“Textbook form, congratulations.”

Both friends whipped their heads in the direction of the front door, eyes wide and faces red. Papyrus dropped Mettaton hastily, lifting his hands as if surrendering to a crime. Mettaton’s head smacked on the tile floor. Sans burst into laughter.

“Hey, don’t mind me,” he said, turning to close the door. “Get back to. Whatever it is that’s going on here.”

“We’re… cooking,” Mettaton said, rubbing his head.

“So that’s what the kids are calling it these days.”

“SANS!” Papyrus called as Sans headed to the stairs. “Just… ssssssshhhhh!”

“Don’t worry. I’m gone. Have fun, you two.”

Papyrus groaned, but secretly his heart was flipping all over the place.

“Let’s!!! Clean this up,” he suggested, gesturing to the ridiculous mess.

“Let me get the bacon,” Mettaton said, getting to his feet.

“Wait---ohhhhhh noooooo,” Papyrus said, pointing to the overturned plate of bacon on the floor, amidst the throng of assorted things. “What a waste!”

Mettaton got on his knees, lifting the plate. He proceeded to pick up each piece, one by one, and place them back on the plasticware. “Good as new.”

“Now, hang on a second!” Papyrus protested. “The rules of Five Seconds declare it’s been far too long to salvage it.”

Locking eyes with him, Mettaton wordlessly took a piece of bacon and put it in his mouth.

“Gross! There are germs!”

“More germs for me!”

“You’re so gross!” But Papyrus couldn’t help giggling.

Mettaton grinned, holding another piece up to Papyrus’s mouth. “They’re not bad! You can only KIND OF taste the dirt and boogers!”

“OH, NO GET THAT AWAY FROM ME I’M SERIOUS METTATON HEHEHEHEHE.”

He squirmed away, running into the living room, Mettaton in pursuit.

“Come and get it!!!!!”

Papyrus ran himself into a corner, trapped. Mettaton triumphantly poked Papyrus with the bacon.

“I win.”

“Isn’t there another batch on the stove?”

Mettaton’s face fell. “Oh! You’re right!”

He saved it just in time, shutting off the burner and getting the pancakes from the tall counter. And the two of them slathered it all in syrup and ate it up.


	4. i dont know anything about cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seriously i had to read like ten articles on google

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for brief suicide mention and some misgendering

Monday morning. Mettaton woke up ten minutes before his alarm was slated to shrill in his ear at precisely 7:30. He reached over and examined it, creaking on the old sofa, searching for its off button. This was an old alarm Sans had lent him when Mettaton requested one. Sans never asked why he, Mettaton, needed such a device, and Mettaton was glad for that. He wasn’t sure how to go about talking to either of his gracious hosts about this.

He kicked off his covers and pulled out his duffle bag from under the couch, examining its contents. He had precious few clothes left from his previously expansive collection. No matter! He could make do.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Damn it all. Why was he getting upset over this? They’re just clothes.

He selected a gray long-sleeved shirt and a blue sweater, which was old and hung a little over his jeans. Everything was wrinkled from being shoved hastily in his bag. He hiked up his jeans, which were already sagging, despite being skinny jeans. Getting kicked out of your home teaches you things about yourself, such as what truly matters. And belts didn’t make the cut, apparently.

He sighed, accepting defeat. Well, he thought, the less flashy he looked the better. News of his situation had surely spread by now. He wanted to avoid as many stares as possible. The brisk early April would soon give way to a sunny spring and promises of a better life after graduation. He had to keep believing that was true. To surrender to his darkest fears would mean certain destruction.

He sighed again, feeling the small flare of determination in his chest light up dimly for the first time since he’d jumped out his bedroom window for the last time.

He reached under again and pulled out his backpack. He had almost not taken it, but thought better of it at the last second. In recent weeks, Mettaton had spoken to his school counselor about his looming birthday and the events that would likely transpire following it. Of course, he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. His counselor had suggested packing ahead of time, and Mettaton had ignored her. He should have realized. He shouldn’t have held hope that his parents would understand. He shouldn’t have been so damn naive.

Gathering his strength, he grabbed his phone from where it was charging and unlocked it. In recent messages, he selected Frisk’s name.

‘hello darling. i suppose everyone knows?’ he texted.

Moments later, Frisk responded. ‘yeah :( every one has been talking about you’

‘thank you. see you soon. E>’

At the sound of a door opening, Mettaton blinked, shoving his phone in his pocket, standing and hiking his backpack up on his shoulder.

It was Papyrus. He leaned against the second floor railing, waving to Mettaton. Mettaton nervously waved back. Papyrus hopped down effortlessly, joining his friend.

“Have you had breakfast?” Papyrus asked. He raised an eyebrow, noticing the backpack. “What’s this?”

Mettaton shifted his backpack, looking away. “Well, uh, I only have a couple months left, so I thought I would….”

He trailed off but Papyrus listened intently.

“I--well, you know, high school dropouts are less likely to get jobs. Statistically,” Mettaton continued.

“That makes perfect sense,” Papyrus said.

“Oh. It does?”

“Of course! You’re still a student, after all. Education is absolutely essential!”

Mettaton laughed. “You sound like Toriel.”

“I’m not wrong! Now come on. I’ll drive you!”

“Really? Thanks, Papyrus!”

“Don’t even think about it! Erase it from your mind!”

Papyrus grabbed his enormous key ring from the hook on the wall and stuffed on his boots. Mettaton shoved his dirty sneakers on, lamenting the loss of his perfectly stylish boots that he couldn’t wear lest he attract attention to himself.

The pair stepped into Papyrus’s car.

“What a pretty car!” Mettaton noted as Papyrus started the engine.

“‘Pretty?’” Papyrus repeated, laughing as he peeled out of the driveway, carefully of course. “She hasn’t been pretty in years, my friend. But she still runs like a dream! One-twenty-six horsepower at 6000 rpm, four speed automatic transmission. Engine of a car half her age; she was old when I got her. Rusted out cylinder. Noticed it right away, though, I did! I, Papyrus, have an eye for that thing. She had a V6, but I replaced that with the 4-cylinder. They told me it was impossible, but I persevered! I used every penny I had on her. I owed it to her!”

Mettaton blinked. “Wow. I didn’t realize you, uh. Knew so much about cars. Wow.”

Papyrus grinned, turning his head to catch Mettaton’s eye as he stopped at a red light. “No greater feeling than having a good drive in a good car!”

Mettaton chuckled. “I suppose so, friend.”

Papyrus clicked his left blinker, turning into the school.

“Should I park?”

“No, it’s fine. Just let me get out at the curb.”

He did so.

But Mettaton stayed seated, clutching his bag. Cars began lining up behind him, and someone near the back beeped.

“Mettaton?”

“I have to face everyone.” He squeezed his bag tighter, looking down at his knees, his hair a curtain across his darting eyes and clammy skin.

Papyrus leaned across the short space and tucked Mettaton’s hair behind his hair, sweeping the curtain aside.

“I don’t know anyone who can put on a face better than you can.”

“I didn’t want it to come out this way. I--I wasn’t out yet, Papyrus, b-but now I am. Everyone knows. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Just think of yourself as another character, overcoming obstacles! You play them so well.”

Mettaton laughed, leaning back in his seat as a tear fell down his cheek. “But that’s The King and I, that’s Macbeth. That’s just high school theatre. This is. Real life.”

“You’ll have Frisk and Blooky, right? And all your theatre friends? You won’t be alone.”

Mettaton looked at Papyrus. The latter flashed a smile. “You’re right. I’m not doing this alone.” He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. “I can do this. It’s just a couple more months.”

Papyrus brushed a tear off Mettaton’s face. The simple action made Mettaton’s heart flip, lighting the flame again.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going in.”

“Good luck! Tell Frisk hello for me.”

“Will do! Pick me up later?”

Papyrus nodded and zoomed away.

Trying desperately to hang onto the shreds of determination he had left, Mettaton put his backpack on and breathed deeply. He began walking to the northern entrance, the door most students didn’t use at the start of the day.

He cursed himself. He should have returned to school immediately. Curbed the rumors. Flashed a winning smile. Continued being the heartthrob popular girl everyone had a crush on. Waiting a week will have done irreparable damage. He loved Shyren, but as his girlfriend, she must have been the one to spread the news. She must have been hounded for the truth. Maybe the rumors were worse than the truth, and she had no choice but to give him away to save his face. He would have to seek her out later and find out what has been going on. He owed her that much. He’d been ignoring her texts.

He passed the main office, the nurse’s office, the cafeteria. The trophy cases. He glanced briefly at the handsome silver cup Alphys had won the school six years ago in her senior year academic decathalon. He took another deep breath. He had to keep going. For Alphys.

He had come here early, with the intention of navigating the halls with as few peers as possible, but he had taken too long getting to this point, and above him rang the first warning bell, startling him. Kids would start coming in from courtyards and parking lots, heading to their lockers to start their days. His heart beating fast with panic, he speed walked through the corridors. He needed to go to his locker, but that was far from his mind. He only concerned himself with getting to his first class.

Through the science hallway and… oh, damn it.

The west entrance slammed open just then, and he stood like a deer in the headlights as a throng of students washed in, their learned paths taking them in the direction they needed to be. But some of them noticed Mettaton, standing there. Their autopilots interrupted, they stopped in their tracks, some pointing and whispering. It started as a handful, but it was enough. Soon an entire crowd was staring at him, rubbernecking as if he were an accident they slow down to watch, safe on the freeway while his life is in ruins.

“Mettaton?” someone asked, incredulous. He didn’t stop to find out who. It was too late to pretend that it was nothing, that he was fine. He was a wrinkly, sweaty, homeless mess. It was as if someone pulled down the curtain and we could all see he wasn’t a wizard. He wasn’t anything. He wasn’t worthy of love. He wasn’t worthy of anything.

He ran for it. Pushed, shoved, lockers blurring past him as he rushed to escape. He should have just dropped out. This was too much, he couldn’t bear this.

But when he got to his first period classroom, he wiped his eyes on his sweater sleeve and tried to stand tall as he walked in.

Half the class was there, and they all looked up at him. The same disbelief as with the others occurred just then.

“Holy shit. Mettaton,” someone said from the opposite end of the room. He recognized the voice as Aaron’s.

Suddenly everyone began talking at once, and then they all started getting up. Mettaton plowed through, ignoring them.

“Hey! Mettaton, what’s wrong?”

“Mettaton, I swear to god, we thought you died.”

“Yeah, there was a rumor you killed yourself! There was even an announcement saying you didn’t do it!”

“You’re not really gay, are you? I thought maybe bi, but I heard you tried to off yourself for being gay.”

“She’s not gay! She kissed me once! Remember, Mettaton?”

“Isn’t she a transgender or something? What the hell does--”

“CLASS,” called Mr. Gaster.

Everyone took their seats. Mettaton sat in the back, putting his head in his hands. There’s no way he would be able to take that for the rest of the day.

Mr. Gaster chastised the class, imploring they support Mettaton rather than further isolate him. Mettaton suppressed the urge to groan. Why did he have to be popular? Why couldn’t he just be a wallflower? He spent the rest of class imagining such a character. A being who could experience change and tragedy within the confines of his own emotion, unaffected by outside influence. What an ideal lifestyle.

At lunch, he finally, finally, met with Frisk and Blooky. They sat and ate meatloaf in relative quiet.

Napstablook finally broke the silence.

“Ummm, Frisk. I, uh, know you said to let Mettaton speak when he wants to speak but I gotta ask him something, is it okay if I do that? Ohhhh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, right? I’ll stop talking now. I’m sorry you had to listen to me just now.”

Mettaton gave his cousin a pat of reassurance. “It’s okay, Blooky. Ask me.”

“Oh good. It’s just I’m only wondering. How are you doing? And, well, I guess to clarify, I don’t mean, how are you doing? Oh I said the same thing. I mean, how are you with your current situation?”

Mettaton smiled distractedly. “I’m keeping it together. Papyrus and Sans are very good to me.”

“Oh that’s a relief.”

Mettaton sipped his juice. “So what did I miss in choir?”

**  
**  


Right before sixth period, Mettaton caught sight of Shyren. She called out to him, but embarrassed beyond belief at the added attention, he turned the corner.

At the end of the day, Mettaton practically ran to Papyrus’s car, ignoring how weird it felt not to stay later for rehearsal. He wasn’t sure how willing he was to continue the production. It was his last show of his high school career, and he played Elphaba. The department was understanding, but they could only remain so for so long. They would have to recast soon if he continued missing valuable rehearsal time.

Mettaton relayed his weary day to a quiet Papyrus. Papyrus said nothing, letting him rant, nodding and giving the occasional quip.

When he finished, Papyrus leaned across, eyes on the road, and squeezed Mettaton’s knee.

“You did well!”

Those three words were like a release. Damn right he did well! He couldn’t help the triumphant smile that lifted his cheeks in what felt like the first time in days.

They got out, shutting their doors.

“It’s getting warmer,” Mettaton remarked.

“Spring is here, after all!”

“It isn’t acting like it.”

Mettaton waited at the front stoop as Papyrus jangled through his key chain, key after key after key, in an attempt to extract the house key.

Just then, the sound of an approaching car distracted Papyrus from his work. They both looked on as the familiar beige car parked neatly in the driveway beside Papyrus’s car.

“Oh, no,” Mettaton mumbled at the sight of his girlfriend slamming her car door and marching around the corner of the house to meet them.

She leaped all four stairs at once. Mettaton had an excuse waiting to go, but it had barely left his mouth before Shyren was on him, shoving him against the front door and locking her mouth to his. He squirmed, and she pulled away. Then she slapped him.

He lifted a hand to his face in shock.

“ _Why_ did you ignore my messages?” she asked wildly, her eyes shining with tears. “They were saying you were DEAD! And you weren’t responding!”

Papyrus frantically began looking through his keys again.

“Shyren….” He still rubbed his cheek.

“You understand I had no choice, right? I had to tell them you weren’t dead!”

Mettaton furrowed his eyebrows. The slap had awakened some untapped anger. “So you _outed me_?”

She looked offended, and it took a stammering second for her to respond. “I-I’m telling you, I had no choice! Would you rather everyone say you’re a boy, or that you’re dead?”

“You could have just said that I wasn’t dead!!! Wasn’t there an announcement?”

“Well, yeah, but--”

Papyrus finally opened the door. “L-let’s go inside, Mettaton! Have a nice day, Shyren!”

“But we’re not finished talking!!”

But they were inside and the door was shut.

Mettaton leaned against the door, sliding to the hardwood below him.

Papyrus shook his head in disappointment. He tsk’d. “I’m sorry in advance for my opinion as an outside observer, but she shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t her information to give, no matter the alternative.”

Mettaton nodded.

“I gotta break up with that girl.”

Papyrus nodded.


	5. the anime lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton enters the Trash Zone

Mettaton saw the familiar towering lab a block before he got there. He breathed out, trying to calm his nerves. This could either go really bad or really good for him. He quickly jaywalked, passed the drugstore and the hand-me-down shop and the post office and the strip joint and the grocery store and the library, and crossed the street again. He figured he would take the back entrance.

He ran his fingers along the black metal fence surrounding the looming building, stepping over weed-choked sidewalk cracks and smiling at strangers.

When he reached the parking garage, he ducked under the automated barrier. He knocked on the operator’s window, not quite tall enough to be seen. He waved.

Just as he thought, Sans’s face appeared at the window. He swung the top of the door out and leaned against the bottom half, looking down at Mettaton. Mettaton gave a friendly smile.

“Hey. Papyrus is at school, I thought you knew?”

Mettaton’s face fell and he cursed himself silently when his face flushed. “That’s not why I’m here!”

“‘Kay. Here to see Alphys?”

Mettaton nodded. “Thought you’d be back here. Well, it’s not as if I’m _avoiding_ Undyne, but--”

“You don’t want her to get all excited, thinking you want a job here.”

He smiled again. “Thanks for understanding.”

Sans shrugged. “Not a big deal. You know which floor.”

He shut the window and picked up a joke book. Then he seemingly rolled away on his chair or something because Mettaton could no longer see him.

He headed toward the elevator, stepping inside and pressing nine. He fixed his sweater, scratched his leg with his other foot. Carefully prodded at his eye, mindful of his makeup. He had to be presentable. Alphys couldn’t know how badly he felt. About everything. All the time. _Constantly_.

He didn’t like to think about it. How his life was practically ruined. Nothing was stable, nothing was going right in his life.

He shook his head, putting on a smile as the elevator dinged. He couldn’t cry. He was wearing mascara.

He stepped out into darkness when the doors slid open. He walked forward, activating the motion sensor. He sighed, shaking his head. These were the offices. His boots clicked and clacked against the floor as he passed dark office after dark office. All motion sensor. He knew Alphys’s employees were all in there. They were just so reclusive and goal-oriented that they sat motionless in the dark finishing their reports and all that other icky paperwork Mettaton hated looking at. He didn’t even know what they did. He thought they were all scientists. Why don’t they ever work in the actual lab? Maybe they do that at night.

When he reached the end of the hall, he knocked loudly, three times, on Alphys’s door. He figured she’d be holed up either working or watching anime.

He was expecting to have to knock a few more times to rescue her from her reverie, but the door swung out so forcefully it almost hit him square in the face.

“WHY HAVEN’T YOU CALLED!?!?!?!?!”

A shrouded figure suddenly sprung forth from the pitch darkness and landed on Mettaton, trapping him in a tight embrace. Of course, it was only Alphys, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, the hood of which was tightly drawstringed over her head, so you could only see a small hole of facial features. She smelled like ramen.

When she finally let go, he made a show of catching his breath. She smacked him on the back.

“Oh, you’re fine.”

“You’ve killed me, Alphys! I think you broke half my ribs.”

“Did not!”

“It’s Undyne’s influence, isn’t it? She hugs like a bear.”

She laughed. “So, really. Other than my amazing hugs, what brings you here? How have you been? I’ve been emailing and texting you! Want some tea?”

Mettaton blinked. “Uh, no tea, thanks.”

“Well, come in.”

She ushered him into the enclosed, cluttered desk space, shoving an overstuffed folder off a crate of ramen. She gestured to the crate and he tentatively sat down, smiling politely.

“Oh, hold on,” she said, reaching over him and flicking on the light. White artificial light blinked tiredly, then slowly lit the room, as if it was waking from a long, long slumber.  

“Sure you don’t want tea? The cooler’s hot water handle finally works again.”

“I’m okay. Thank you, Alphys.”

She pulled her hood down, revealing dyed blond hair, tied high in a scraggly bun.

He pointed at it. “That’s new.”

She shrugged, but blushed. “It was, ah, U-Undyne’s idea! Heh.”

He noticed most of her dark brown roots were showing. She retrieved her glasses from the wad of hair and pushed them onto her face.

She leaned forward and put her hand on Mettaton’s knee. “So tell me about your life. I want to know everything. I know things have been… hard. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t your fault. The timing was weird. You were on your honeymoon!”

“Still! Mom told me what happened. Where are you staying? You are always welcome at our place, I hope you know that, kid.”

She laughed nervously. He knew what she was doing.

He smiled, trying his best to make it genuine. “I’m at Papyrus and Sans’s. They’ve been... really good to me.”

“Do you have any things?”

“Yes, I managed to grab a few of my clothes and my charger and toothbrush and all that but--”

“I can always go there and get more for you. Even better! I can take you shopping! I think those sundresses you were interested in may still be on sale.”

Mettaton blinked. “Alphys, that was months ago.”

She cocked her head. “No?”

He sighed. “No, Alphys, it’s okay. You don’t have to do any of that for me. Well… I only have one favor. That’s why I’m here.”

“Anything at all! Truly!”

“I need my bike.”

“Done.”

“It’s in the garage, or it should be.” He scoffed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if they pawned off everything valuable of mine.”

Her face softened in pity and he greatly regretted feeling sorry for himself, even for a second.

“I’ll get it for you. I don’t think they would have gotten rid of it. But if, god forbid, they did, I will get you a new one in a heartbeat.”

He shifted on the crate, shaking off her hand. “You seriously don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. You’re my s--brother. We’re family.”

He pursed his lips. “I just need my bike. I’m trying to get a job. If the bike is gone, I’ll take the city bus.”

She stood up so fast her broken office chair wheeled into her desk and knocked an anime figurine over. He could tell she was serious because she didn’t even stop to pick it up.

“Work here!”

He put his head in his hands. He shouldn’t have mentioned the job.

“No, Alphys.”

“And why the _hell_ not?? If I was your age and someone handed me a job, I’d take it!”

“I just... “ He sighed. “I want to get a job--”

“On your own? Mettaton please. Please let me help you.”

“ _Why?_ To help ease your conscience?”

“Mettaton….”

He rubbed his temples. “Okay, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry, Alphys.”

“No. It wasn’t. You’re right.” She sat back down. “I’m a terrible person. I knew they were going to kick you out. For months. And I did nothing about it. I was selfish.”

“You were planning your wedding. I don’t blame you for not getting involved.”

“I should have gotten involved! You’re my brother. And our parents were being unreasonable. I should have stepped in.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me by handing me a job. I don’t like charity. Besides, a desk job sounds terrible,” Mettaton said, looking around at the clutter.

“Then work downstairs. Work for Undyne, with security.”

_With Papyrus._

He slapped away the unwelcome thought.

He laughed. “But I’m puny.”

“We’re understaffed currently at the parking garage. We could use more officers down there. You would just sit in a booth and accept fare.”

He looked down at his lap, thinking.

“Would I have training?”

She laughed. “Just a tutorial video, I think. This isn’t the Marines.”

He smiled. “Well. I guess I’ll think about it. But I want an application. I want you to consider me like any other person applying! No pity-hiring.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do I really look like the kind of person who has an application ready to hand over?”

“I guess not.” But they were both smiling.

“We have them all online.”

He grinned, wide, and it was real for the first time all day.

“I still want my bike.”

“Done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sry things r goin a lil slow, i promise stuff will pick up soon!


	6. party! part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> frisk you're like 13

“Mettaton…..wake up….”

Mettaton rolled over, facing the figure standing before him. “P...Papyrus?”

“You wish.”

He scrambled upright. “Sans. Of course. Sorry.”

“Right.” He smirked. Mettaton frowned.

“You got company,” Sans continued, jerking his thumb in the direction of the front door. Then he was gone.

Mettaton quickly ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes before heading over and opening the door.

Before him stood Napstablook, Frisk, and Shyren.

He was happy to see his friend and his cousin, but his girlfriend (frankly, his ex) made him uneasy.

“Um, hey,” he greeted.

“Mettaton, I just want to say again how sorry I am.”

“You never said sorry.”

“I’m willing to make amends.”

Mettaton sighed. He didn’t need this first thing in the morning.

“So,” he said, “is that why you’re all here?”

“Oh,” said Napstablook, “well……. no. We were planning a party for you… it was going to be a surprise… but then you got kicked out of your house… oh no did I bring up a tender subject...oh no….”

“We were wondering if you were still up to it,” said Frisk. “And just for the record, we did _not_ invite Shyren here today.”

“He’s my boyfriend!”

“Oh, did I not make it clear we were through?” Mettaton said, his voice low with anger.

For a moment there was silence as Shyren held her hand to her mouth.

“This is awkward……” Napstablook whispered to Frisk.

“I gotta get ready for school,” said Mettaton. “I’ll… I dunno. I’ll talk to you later.”

He shut the door, turning around. Papyrus was standing on the stairs.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just heard your voice, and then I heard Shyren…”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

He pulled out his bag and selected another wrinkly outfit. He squeezed the fabric in his hands as his vision got blurry. Damn it. Why is he getting upset over Shyren suddenly? _He_ was the victim. Yet… he had really loved her. Oh, he told everyone they weren’t serious. And they weren’t. But his time with her was… cathartic. She was one of the only ones in his life who respected his gender. They sang together to Napstablook’s music. She wanted to start a band. What went wrong with her? Why did she do this to him?

Feeling weak with the weight of everything terrible that had happened to him, he sank to the couch, clutching the clothes.

“Mettaton?” Papyrus asked.

“I’m… f-fine.” Tears rolled down, dripping off his nose onto the wrinkled sweater.

Clearly sensing that wasn’t the truth, Papyrus rushed over, sitting beside his friend. He put his arm around Mettaton, and Mettaton, as if receiving permission from him, started to sob, leaning his forehead against Papyrus’s shoulder.

Papyrus put his other arm around him, hugging him tight.

They stayed like that until Mettaton quieted, his breathing returned to normal and his tears stopped. He lifted his head up, mere inches from Papyrus.

“S...Sorry I keep doing this,” he said, smiling sadly.

Papyrus took Mettaton’s face in his hands. “Don’t be ridiculous!! Never apologize for your emotions!” he yelled.

Mettaton laughed. “Ow, my ears.”

Papyrus pulled Mettaton back into another hug. “You’re going to be late for school.”

  
  


With another quick hug in the car, Papyrus sent Mettaton off to school. Mettaton shut the door and waved as Papyrus drove away.

He headed into the school, looking down and ignoring the stares. He accepted his fall from grace. He was no longer popular. Or, at least, he was popular in a way he didn’t want to be. He had been kicked from the play without warning. He supposed it was fair. They wanted people to actually come see it. His goal now was to simply exist. Do alright on his finals, graduate high school.

He wished Papyrus had been in his grade. He could really use all the friends at school he could get. Frisk and Napstablook did not go unappreciated, don’t get him wrong. But they were both younger than him. Frisk was a freshman and Blooky was a sophomore. They were lucky enough to share lunch together, but that was the only time in the day they all saw each other, besides passing time occasionally. Papyrus had graduated when Mettaton was a sophomore.

He got to his locker, remembering the day. Papyrus had been the valedictorian, yet he was going to a two-year culinary program at the community college. Mettaton was one of the few who defended and supported him.

“You fear nothing, don’t you?” Mettaton had asked, leaning against the other lockers as Papyrus closed his for the last time. The latter grinned, adjusting his cap. Mettaton remembered thinking he looked silly in the outfit. He remembered thinking he just had to find a fashionable way to wear it when his time came.

“Why would I fear anything at all? Life isn’t meant to be frightening!”

Now, Mettaton tried to hold onto his friend’s words as he shoved books into his bag. The bell rang.

“I envy you, friend. I’m scared all the time,” Mettaton had said as the two of them strolled down the empty hall.

“Fear is a reflection of a life lived meekly. Grab life by the eye sockets!!! Then you won’t have any fear. That’s my advice to you, Mettaton.”

Mettaton smiled at the memory. He had to keep going. He couldn’t be scared anymore.

  
  


At lunchtime, he set his tray down beside Frisk and Napstablook. The two of them looked up at their friend.

“I’ll do the party,” he announced. He sat down.

Frisk nodded. “Hell yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved,” said Napstablook. “I mean, it would have been okay if you didn’t want to. But I’m glad. You like to party. Especially when it’s a party for you.”

Mettaton laughed. “Yeah, Blooky, you’re right. I’ve been forgetting myself lately. What’s the point of a Mettaton birthday if there isn’t a Mettaton birthday _party_?”

Frisk smiled. “That’s the Mettaton I know.”

“Oh,” said Blooky. “But what about the guest list?”

Mettaton took a shaky breath. “Well, where will the party be? I can’t exactly have it at my house anymore, and no way am I asking Sans and Papyrus to host a party for me. They’re already doing so much for me.”

“Toriel is leaving town this weekend,” said Frisk, “and she said I could have some friends over if I wanted.”

“Then I think we’ll tone down the party meter a little this year.”

“What? Noooo.”

“I’m not having a rager at Toriel’s house! I would feel so bad if anything bad happened. Just invite some of my friends.” A pang suddenly stabbed Mettaton’s chest. Did he… even have friends anymore? He flushed pink. “Or some of yours. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“Want booze?” Frisk asked, wiggling their eyebrows.

Mettaton blinked at them. “Of course not! Frisk, what the hell. You’re like, 13.”

“I’m 14.”

“Still too young! Besides, we’re all illegal anyway. We’ve never had to party with alcohol before. We’ll be fine. It’ll be lowkey.”

Frisk nodded. “Sure thing. It’s your party, after all.”

Mettaton picked at his food. He wasn’t hungry. He was rarely hungry these days.

“So um,” Napstablook said after a moment of silence. “Are you and Shyren really over?”

Mettaton nodded. “Yes. She’s responsible for a lot of my pain at the moment. I can’t bring myself to continue being her boyfriend, or her friend, even. Of course, that doesn’t mean either of you are forbidden to continue spending time with her! I just can’t anymore. I hope you understand.”

Frisk shook their head. “You know, I dunno about you, Blooky, but it feels weird being around her now.”

Napstablook nodded.

Frisk continued. “I think she secretly liked the attention it gave her. I don’t know what she told you, but basically after a couple days of you not showing up to school, she started acting up. She avoided us, she would burst into tears in the middle of class and run out of the room, and then she started telling everyone with ears that you had been kicked out.”

“That’s when the rumors that you were dead started,” Napstablook said, sipping milk. “After that, she started telling everyone you’re trans. It was, uh, sort of painful to watch. I’m sorry we didn’t do much to stop her. If we had just pushed a little harder….”

“We tried,” Frisk jumped in. “We really tried. But she was convinced she was doing the right thing.”

Mettaton wagged his finger. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourselves, not for a second! You’re my closest friends. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I appreciate that you stood by my side.”

Blooky gave a toothy grin. “Always! We’re family!”

Frisk nudged Mettaton. “Besides, we gotta stick together. Without you guys, I’d have to hang out with… _cis people_.”

They made a disgusted face, and then all three friends were laughing, Mettaton high and clear. People around them stared briefly, but were mostly disinterested.

Mettaton wiped away a tear from laughter. “Ahh… well, thank you for telling me everything she did. Maybe I can get over her easier now.”

Frisk smirked. “Oh, I thought your living situation had already helped with that.”

Mettaton frowned. “What do you mean?”

Blooky and Frisk exchanged a look.

“Mettaton, we know how disgustingly in love with Papyrus you were a couple years back,” Frisk said, still smirking.

Mettaton gasped, lifting his hand to his chest, offended. The gesture caused Frisk and Napstablook to burst into laughter.

“Stop it! Stop laughing! I was never in love with Papyrus!! Neither of you were even in high school yet, how would you know?! I SAID STOP LAUGHING!”

“Sorry,” Blooky said, “it was just so completely obvious, it’s silly that you’re still denying it two years later?”

Mettaton entire face lit up. “No way… do you think he knew?”

The two underclassmen exchanged a nervous look.

“Uhhhhh….” said Napstablook at the same time that Frisk said, “Yeah, it’s likely.”

“Oh, god,” Mettaton said, running a hand through his hair. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” said Napstablook, offering a pat on the shoulder. “He definitely doesn’t still think you like him, since you’ve dated like a million people since then.”

Mettaton nodded slowly. “Oh. Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He looked down at his barely eaten cafeteria sandwich as the end of lunch bell rang.

 


	7. party!! part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doot doot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends sry i took a while to update!! my life is pretty Hectic at the moment. hopefully this extra long chapter will make up for it!
> 
> trigger warnings for alcohol and moderate, potentially triggering sexual assault. it's not bad enough that I would change the rating, but it could still be upsetting to some, so be careful! 
> 
> [spoilers just in case you would rather know what it is now, for preparation's sake. mettaton gets forcefully held down and kissed by a male classmate against his will.]
> 
> i dont party very often and i did absolutely zero partying when i was in high school, so let me know if i was off base or nah
> 
> anyway thats it! enjoy the thing

Mettaton gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He took a deep breath, trying to find the wherewithal to be excited. Planning the party with his friends had been fun. They had sat in Frisk’s living room, drinking soda and thinking of the most ridiculous party games. He had been looking forward to this. But now that he was made up and dressed up, nervous butterflies flared in the pit of his stomach.

Blooky had lent him a sweater vest, and he had politely accepted, though he didn’t think it would be very flattering on him. But now, as he turned this way and that before the mirror, he thought he looked rather… good.

He tucked his hair behind his ear and smiled.

A knock came at the door.

"Mettaton, ready to go?" Papyrus asked.

Mettaton steeled himself before opening the bathroom door.

Papyrus stood still, his mouth open.

Mettaton beamed. "I look great, right? I had my doubts but Blooky really came through!" He turned back to the mirror. "I'm gorgeous!"

Papyrus chuckled. "Yeah. You are." He leaned against the door frame. "It's really good to see you return to your old self."

Mettaton smiled, turning to face Papyrus. "I'm not sure how much I want to be my old self anymore."

"In any case, it's good to see you smiling!"

Mettaton nudged Papyrus. "It's good to have things worth smiling about."

Papyrus got pink in the face. He cleared his throat. "So, ah, yes! I'll drive you to Frisk's house now. Let's!!! Be on our way!!"

Mettaton offered another smile before following his friend down the hall and outside, where they hopped in the car.

The car ride was short and quiet. Papyrus parked in the driveway. The party was slated to begin at 7. Mettaton glanced briefly at the flashing numbers on the car clock, which proclaimed the time to be 6:48, before Papyrus cut the engine.

"Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" Papyrus asked quietly, his hand supportively resting on Mettaton's knee.

Mettaton shook his head. "Thank you. I'll be fine. It's just some theatre and choir friends. Who knows if anyone will even show up?"

"Well," Papyrus said, removing his hand and unlocking the doors, "if no one shows up, you'll have a fun time with Frisk and Napstablook!"

"Absolutely."

“Call me if you need me!”

Mettaton nodded.

With one last look at his friend, Mettaton opened the passenger door and stepped out. He walked around the front of the car and waved as Papyrus drove away.

He turned to the front door at the sound of its opening.

"Come on in, birthday boy!" called Frisk.

Mettaton grinned, running to meet them. His stomach flipped in excitement. He could almost forget about recent events in his life.

"Napstablook is setting up the Wii U," Frisk said, heading toward the kitchen. Mettaton glanced in the living room at his cousin fiddling with the cords.

"I also ordered pizza. Pineapple, your disgusting, sinful favorite."

"I made them get cheese too," Napstablook called from the next room.

"Nothing wrong with a little fruit on your pizza!" Mettaton objected, but he was beaming.

"MTT, there's _everything_ wrong with fruit on your pizza," Frisk responded, and they smiled too.

Things were going Mettaton's way. Maybe it was silly to be excited for a birthday party when he was no longer a child, but for once he wanted to be younger again. For months, all he wanted was to turn 18. But now, he wanted to feel the joy of people doing things just for him. He wanted a day all to himself. He wanted things to be all about him. Maybe it was selfish of him. But damn it, he deserved to be selfish!

"I need help in here," Napstablook called, defeat in their voice.

Frisk rolled their eyes. "I'll help them. You set out the chips."

Mettaton nodded, pulling out bowls from underneath the counter and methodically ripping open chip bags he found beside him.

In the middle of sour cream and onion, someone knocked on the front door.

Excited, Mettaton ran for it, stopping to compose himself before calmly opening the door.

His face fell when he saw who it was. "Shyren, wh--"

She pushed past him, followed by what looked like the whole choir.

"Oh, happy birthday, Mettaton!"

He narrowed his eyes. "Thanks."

Music began playing from the living room as his friends walked into the house, wishing him happy birthday.

When they were all in, he shut the door and ran after them, pushing past people in search of Frisk. He found them at the stereo.

"Frisk, why is Shyren here?"

" _What_?"

"She came in with the choir."

"We didn't invite her."

Before Mettaton could reply, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Frisk said. "Don't worry, Mettaton. I'll take care of Shyren."

But the second Frisk was out of sight, Mettaton scanned the small crowd of heads until he found Shyren by the window, on her cell phone. He could hear the end of her conversation as he walked over.

“Alright. See you in five.”

When he stood in front of her, she tapped the end call button on the touch screen.

“Shyren, I’m asking you politely to leave,” Mettaton said calmly.

She smiled falteringly. “Uh, haha! Well, you see, Mettaton, the thing is, people kept asking me if I was going! And I’d look pretty silly if the entire choir went but I couldn’t!”

“Why would it look silly? We’re broken up, it would look perfectly natural for you not to attend my birthday party.”

Her phone buzzed and she took it out again, reading the text and mumbling under her breath, “Who even has birthday parties anymore? We’re seniors.”

Mettaton frowned. “Who are you texting?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Oh, just some friends. I thought you would appreciate it if I livened the party up a bit!” She glanced up from her phone. “You _used_ to like fun, you know.”

Mettaton opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. He wasn’t…  _entirely_ opposed to that. After all, Shyren was spectacular at creating fun where it was needed. But…

“Shyren, you can’t just invite people when you’re the one crashing! Besides, this isn’t even my house. If something happened….”

“Like what? Some antique vase breaking? Two people making out on Toriel’s bed?”

Mettaton cringed. “You know what I mean. I’m trying to lay low here, Shyren.”

“And you will. I’m just spicing things up! You know how good I am at that. Adding harmonies and riffs. Remember _Little Shop_ auditions?”

Mettaton fought the smile that instinctively appeared at the memory. Freshmen year. That was how they had met.

“Trust me,” she said, stepping close and taking his hand. “I want to make things up to you.”

_More like you want to save face._

He pursed his lips. “Ok, fine. But if something goes wrong, it’s on you. Got it?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Everything will be fine.”

Mettaton hadn’t noticed the new wave of people coming in. This must already be the work of Shyren. There were some people there Mettaton would hardly consider his acquaintances. His chest tight with guilt, he searched the crowd for Frisk again. Someone turned up the music. He cursed himself. Shyren knew exactly how to play him. She knew his weakness was fun parties.

He couldn’t find Frisk, but he found Blooky in the kitchen, hurriedly making lemonade.

When the latter spotted their cousin, they paused their stirring for a moment.

“Oh, hey, just noticed you there. Uh, I may, uh, be wrong about this, but there seems to be a, um, a lot more people here than we invited. I guess I’m just wondering if you know something about that?” they asked, continuing to push the large wooden spoon around the jug.

“It was Shyren!”

“Oh… she’s here? I don’t think we invited her... I mean that would be pretty insensitive of Frisk and myself.”

“She’s here. She crashed. And now she’s texting a bunch of people, telling them to come.”

Blooky stopped stirring. “Well, I guess it’s up to you.”

Mettaton blinked. “What’s up to me?”

“Um, whether or not to. Let this happen?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Mettaton leaned against the fridge. “I’m sort of okay with it.”

“You do like to party.”

“Right?”

“But it’s also Frisk’s house.”

“Yeah, exactly, that’s just what I was thinking. If something goes wrong, I wouldn’t want Toriel to be responsible for it,” said Mettaton.

“Frisk really wanted this to be a big thing, you know. They thought it would help cheer you up. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. But, um, you could always ask.”

Mettaton nodded. “Ok.”

But he stood still.

“I think you should go have fun,” Blooky said after a moment of silence. “I’ll let Frisk know what happened.”

Mettaton nodded again, slower.

“I’m serious. Have fun," Blooky repeated.

Mettaton met eyes with his cousin. He allowed himself a small smile.

“Ok.”

Mettaton slammed the shot glass down on the counter, to the cheers of the crowd around him. Beside him, Bratty and Catty wouldn’t stop giggling and hiccuping.

“We’re, like, so glad we came!” Catty said, pushing Mettaton playfully. He spun around on the breakfast bar stool.

“Even though we’re, like, probably way too old to be drinking with teenagers,” Bratty added, trying to catch the straw of her wine cooler with her tongue.

“Oh, my god, Bratty! Don’t make us sound like losers! We’re not even that old!” Catty said, slurring her speech slightly.

Bratty laughed and laughed.

Mettaton poured himself another shot of the shitty vodka. “You guys are always welcome at any of my birthday parties,” he said, knocking the shot back. Strangers clapped him on the back.

Catty sipped her drink. “You’re only saying that because we brought the booze!”

“Nahhhhhhhh, I owe you two… you guys are so funny! And you were really close to my sister, whatever happened there? You guys-- _hic_ \--you guys used to be so close!”

“Oh, you know Alphys!” said Bratty, rolling her eyes.

“Always, like, too wrapped up in her work to notice anything else!”

“We were like, girl, you need to step OUT of that cave, and like, have fun!”

Catty giggled. “You definitely don’t take after her. You’re so fuuuuuuuuun. She’s so, blah! But you’re so….” She made a vague hand gesture. “Hot! Hahahaha!”

Bratty grabbed her friend’s hands. “Oh, my god, Catty! You can’t say that, he’s Alphys’s baby brother, hahahahaha!”

“He’s, like, totally a cutie!”

“Oh, my god!!!!!”

“Sorry, ladies, but you’re not my type," he said with fake disappointment. But he was smiling.

“Oh?” said Bratty, leaning forward so Mettaton had to refocus his eyes to look at her. “What _is_ your type?”

Catty squealed. “Ooooooh!!! Yes, let’s talk about this!!!! Who are you crushing on!!!!???!”

Mettaton grew hot, his face already flaming from the alcohol. “Uh--”

“Oh my god!!!!! You’re red as a cherry!!!” Bratty said, as Catty continued squealing. “You, like, HAVE to tell us.”

“Oh my god,” Mettaton said, finding himself adopting their speech patterns. “This is gonna sound so crazy. I can’t even believe it myself.”

The girls squealed together. “Oh my GOD!!!” they said in unison.

“I’m totally in love with Papyrus!!!! OH MY GOD I SAID IT.”

“NO!!!! WAY!!!!!”

“OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD!!!!”

“WE KNOW HIM!!!! WE KNOW HIM!!!!!”

“OH MY GOD YOU TWO WOULD BE SO CUTE TOGETHER--”

“OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO CALL HIM. OH MY GOD.”

“OH MY GOD YES YOU HAVE TO CALL HIM AND TELL HIM TO GET OVER HERE.”

“OH MY GOD!!!!!!!”

Mettaton was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. He wildly gestured “no” with his arms, but the girls were reaching into their pockets for their phones.

“OH MY GOD, DO YOU HAVE HIS CELL?”

“NO!!!!”

Mettaton pulled out his phone. “Should I do it??? Should I call him?????”

“YES!!!!!!!!!!!” they said in unison. Mettaton may have said it, too. He couldn’t tell.

It took him a few tries to unlock his phone, and when he did, the girls crowded closer to him as he selected Papyrus’s name in his contacts and held the phone to his ear. There’s no way this was a bad idea.

“Mettaton? Is everything going okay?”

When he heard Papyrus’s voice, he suddenly felt sick. A pit dropped in his stomach, and he felt a little more sober. God, what the hell was he doing???

He hung up without saying anything. He felt sweaty.

Catty and Bratty protested.

He put on a smiling face and stood up, wobbling a bit before putting his arms around their shoulders.

“Sorry, ladies, I’m going to leave you for now.”

“Awwww, no!”

“What??? Whyyyyy? It was just getting good!!!!”

“I gotta pee!” Mettaton said, giggling.

All three of them laughed, the phone call seemingly already in the past for the two girls. And then Mettaton was off. He was amazed he was even able to walk on his own, let alone find the restroom.

In his altered state, he kept thinking to himself, _I need this_. Some part of him that remained conscious was aware of the poor decision-making, but he chose to ignore that part of him. For now, all he could do was celebrate another year of surviving. Celebrate the end of an era. Celebrate the end of a toxic upbringing. He was ready to start anew. He had people who loved him. He was loved.

He ran his hand along the hallway wall, trying to focus on walking straight. He felt tears burn his eyes. That’s what he gets for leaving himself to his own drunken thoughts.

He finally found the bathroom. It looked like someone was sleeping in the tub. He closed the curtain and sat on the toilet.

_Eat. Drink water. Stop doing this to yourself._

He shook his head then winced, his cloudy thoughts pricking his brain. God, he was so glad he didn’t go through with that call. As if he needed another reason to dread waking up every day. Plus, it wasn’t even true. There was no way he was _in love_ with Papyrus. Yeah, maybe Mettaton liked the way Papyrus cared for him. How whenever he was down, Papyrus was there to help him up. He was there for him during the beginning of high school, when Mettaton came to terms with his gender identity. It was a rocky path, and Papyrus was always beside him, with a goofy grin on his face. Maybe Mettaton liked the way Papyrus looked in a tight shirt. None of that was love, okay? He’s _Mettaton_. He _knows_ what love is. He loves fully and completely and often. He was more familiar with love than with anything else in his life. He would know if he was in love with Papyrus.

His stomach was flipping so fast he feared he would vomit. He took a deep breath and flushed.

He splashed cold water on his face. Stared at his reflection. The pink cheeks, the heavy eyelids, the winged eyeliner. He dragged his hands down his face.

_I’m a goddamn mess._

_I’m in love with him._

He always had been, hadn’t he? All these years.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, exhausted suddenly. He needed to lie down or something. He managed to make his way to the other end of the hall, until he was standing in front of Frisk’s room. He pushed open the door, glad Frisk had kept it unlocked.

He closed it behind him and collapsed on his friend’s bed. They wouldn’t mind, probably. Yeah. They’d want him to rest.

He couldn’t stay here for long. His thoughts swam sluggishly through his pounding head, the alcohol rendering them absolutely truthful. He couldn’t handle that much truth, not just yet.

He needed to focus on something else. Anything else.

The door suddenly slammed open. Mettaton sat up, wincing at the sound. He squinted in the darkness. Oh. It was Aaron.

“I saw you go in here,” he explained, shutting the door behind him.

If Mettaton’s head hadn’t been so jammed up, the alarm bells would be warning him right about now of the potential danger in this situation.

Aaron was the quarterback of the football team at school, which is to say, he plays some kind of position that Mettaton wasn’t certain of so for simplicity’s sake let’s just assume he was the quarterback. He regularly courted girls, and, at one point, Mettaton. Almost one year ago, behind the bleachers. Mettaton often wished he could forget that terrible thirty minutes.

“Heard you and Shyren are splitsville.”

“Who… who even says that anymore. Spl-ITS-ville.”

“Thought you’d like to try a man on for size again,” Aaron said, flexing.

Mettaton couldn’t help laughing at that. “Wow. You’re being serious, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He sat down on the bed. “I figured, it’s your birthday party. I may as well give you what you want.” He winked.

“How could you possibly know what I want?”

Aaron flipped his hair. “I’ve been thinking about us lately.”

He got closer. Mettaton glared, suddenly angry. “Listen. Darling. There was never an ‘us’. There will never be an ‘us.’”

“That’s what _you_ think.”

“Yes! You’re right! That’s what I think! Could you leave, please?”

“I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”

“I said no.”

“I’m not leaving until I get an answer I want.”

Mettaton could barely think straight through the haze of alcohol. He couldn’t deal with this, not now.

“Get out of my friend’s room, Aaron, and-- _hic_ \--that’s the last time I’m asking nicely.”

He took Mettaton’s hand, kissing it. Mettaton rolled his eyes.

“Are you quite finished?”

As if in answer to Mettaton’s question, Aaron practically leapt forward, arms pinning Mettaton to the bed and legs straddling his middle.

Oh, dear. He was pretty strong.

Mettaton struggled. “Hey, get off!”

“Come on. You’re hot, I’m hot! We’re perfect.”

“Do you seriously see relationships this way?”

Ignoring him, he leaned down and sloppily kissed him.

“Stop it! God, you’re disgusting.”

Aaron’s grip on Mettaton’s wrists grew tighter.

“Ow! Hey, I’m serious, get off!”

Aaron began pushing Mettaton’s sweater vest up.

“Quit it! I’m telling you, STOP!”

He began to panic. He struggled harder, but Aaron was a silent, unstoppable force.

He was about to cry out for help when the door slammed open again. Moments later, Aaron was forcefully removed from the bed, landing with a thud on the unforgiving floor.

“Papyrus?” Mettaton slurred, getting up.

Papyrus’s eyes were dark with anger and determination. Mettaton quieted. He had never seen his friend this way before.

Papyrus grabbed Aaron by the front of his shirt and lifted him with ease.

“Aaron!! This is Papyrus! You may know me by your sister! She and I sometimes spent time together back in high school! What would she say if she knew _this_ is how you treat people?? My dear friend was begging you to stop, and you did not!! Frankly, I’m disgusted!”

He let Aaron drop to the floor again.

“Think on your actions!”

He directed his attention to Mettaton.

“I think it’s time you come home.”

He held out a hand and, mesmerized, Mettaton took it.

“Wh….what time is it?” Mettaton asked.

“One thirty.”

“How on earth did it get so late?”

Papyrus did not answer. He led Mettaton out into the hall, and into the living room, where he made his way through the maze of buzzed teenagers lying on couches and floors and tables.

He turned off the stereo, then let go of Mettaton in order to cup his hands around his mouth for maximum shouting volume.

“HELLO GUESTS! I, PAPYRUS, CERTIFIED ADULT, HEREBY END THIS PARTY! TIME TO GO HOME, KIDS! THANKS FOR COMING!”

The teens slowly comprehended the message, and began getting up.

“I REPEAT: PARTY’S OVER!”

He turned to Mettaton. “Come with me.”

Mettaton wordlessly obeyed, following him into the kitchen as his peers started leaving the house. Papyrus reached into the top cupboard and pulled out a large plastic cup, which he filled with sink water. He handed the cup to Mettaton.

“Drink, please.”

Mettaton did as he said, and in doing so, locked eyes with Bratty and Catty, who sat slack-jawed at the breakfast bar.

“Oh my god,” Catty said quietly.

Papyrus turned around, noticing them.

“Ah! Hello! You two are a little too old to be at a high school party, aren’t you?”

Bratty scoffed. “I like, to-duh-lly told you so!” she said to Catty.

“Whatever, Bratty! Fun has no age!”

Regardless, the two friends packed up what was left of their booze and headed out.

“Byeeeee, you twooooo!!!!” Catty called behind her shoulder.

“WINK, WINK!!!!” Bratty added.

Mettaton tried to ignore the heat that rose to his face, and brought his cup to his lips.

“They’re so friendly,” Papyrus commented.

Mettaton nodded.

As the house slowly emptied, Papyrus stepped closer to Mettaton. “Are you okay?”

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“I was so worried! I received that call, and I heard screeching and shouting, and I kept calling you back and texting you! But you didn’t respond! And neither did Frisk or Napstablook! I was pacing for so long, Sans finally convinced me to go and check up on you.”

Oh, god, the call. Mettaton chuckled. “Oh, ah, I’m really sorry for worrying you. I was fine, just, um, a little drunk.”

Papyrus cocked his head. “You seem like you still are.”

“Ahh, haha. You’re right!”

Papyrus laughed, but he looked worried.

Just then, Napstablook and Frisk walked in.

“Oh. Papyrus,” Frisk said guiltily. “Please don’t tell Toriel.”

“Tell Toriel what?”

Frisk winked. “Oh, I see what you did there! Thanks, Papyrus.”

“I’m serious, tell her what?”

“Oh, uh. Nothing. Nevermind.”

“Uhhhh, Frisk, I’m really sorry this party ended up bein’ bigger than we-- _hic_ \--planned--” Mettaton started, but Frisk held up their hand.

“I’m not mad in the slightest. We can talk more when you’ve rested. Did you have fun?”

Mettaton nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you Monday, then! Frisk has to sleep now,” Frisk said, yawning.

“Are you good, Napstablook?” Papyrus asked.

Napstablook nodded. “Oh… thank you for asking. I’m spending the night here.”

“Goodnight, friends. Thank youuuuu,” Mettaton said, gathering them both into a hug.

“Of course,” Frisk said, smiling.

Papyrus helped Mettaton out of the house and into his car.

“Awwwww, I wanted to jump into people’s yards again,” Mettaton said as he struggled to buckle in.

Papyrus reached over and did it for him.

“I thought a quick drive would be best.”

“Well, you thought booooring.”

Papyrus chuckled and started the car.

Mettaton gazed out the window. “Maybe I would have. I dunno. Smashed a window in, of my stupid, stupid, dumb parents’ house. Or threw their stupid, stupid, stupid flamingoes on the grill.”

“That doesn’t sound like a safe or good idea.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let’s get you into bed. We can talk about revenge tactics tomorrow. It could be cathartic! I can even ask Undyne. She loves revenge.”

“Undyne doesn’t like me,” Mettaton heard himself say quietly. Wow, where did that come from! Being drunk sure is a silly thing to be.

“What! Of course she likes you! You’re family! She’s your sister-in-law!”

“Just because we’re suddenly sisters doesn’t… _hic_ … doesn’t mean she likes me,” said Mettaton.

“...You mean sister and brother?”

“What? Oh…… yeah….”

Papyrus turned onto their street. “Undyne is a great person! She has so much passion! I know at the very least, she respects you.”

“That’s not liking me.”

Papyrus parked and turned off the car, unbuckling himself and Mettaton.

Mettaton got out, leaning against the car, suddenly tired. Papyrus took hold of him, helping him walk into the house.

“I’m going to let you have my bed tonight, okay? I think you need a bed right now. We can talk more about Undyne tomorrow.”

“Noooo…. don’t give me your bed….”

“Nonsense! The couch is terrible. You deserve comfort right now.”

After struggling to get Mettaton up the first few steps, Papyrus finally relented and swung Mettaton up from under his legs, carrying him bridal-style up the remaining stairs.

“How...romantic….” Mettaton mumbled into Papyrus’s shoulder.

Mettaton breathed deeply, blocked out from the world just long enough to hear Papyrus’s heart beating.

Papyrus brought Mettaton into his room and gently placed him down on his racecar bed, throwing the comforter over him.

“You… still have this bed?” Mettaton asked, laughing softly, his eyes already shutting.

“It is an amazing bed and I’m sorry you’re very jealous of it.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Um! So I will be heading downstairs now. Goodnight, Mettaton.” He hopped out the door.

“Waaaait.”

“Yes?” He popped his head back in.

“Stay.”

“Heh. What?” Papyrus asked, stepping back into the room fully.

“Stay here tonight. With me.”

“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm, are you sure?”

Mettaton nodded, his eyes still closed. He opened them, reaching his hand out.

“Pleeeeease?”

“Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm, okay! If it would make you feel better….”

“It would.”

“Alright then! Anything for a pal!”

Papyrus shut the door and kicked off his shoes. Mettaton closed his eyes again, and his heart faintly fluttered as Papyrus lowered himself into the bed beside him.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed how small my bed is,” Papyrus said, his deep voice close enough that Mettaton could feel the vibration of it.

“I’ve noticed.”

Mettaton turned around under the covers so he was facing Papyrus.

“Thank you, Papyrus,” he whispered.

“Y-yeah! You’re welcome.”

Mettaton smiled, and in the next instant he was asleep.


	8. smells like citrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things get a little Gay at least twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another long ass chapter yaya!! hope u like it when Things Happen because this is like ten pages in google docs
> 
> few points:
> 
> 1) trigger warning for some harsh misgendering & transphobic parents
> 
> 2) sidenote: im ?? terrible at translating weird names to human aus, if u havent already noticed, i tend to just?? ignore that theyre weird names?? and so does everyone in the fic? so like. coming up with a last name for mtt and alphys was a lil hard and ex was all i could come up with lol i hope u can overlook that if it is silly or annoying. also the parents arent based on anyone, i made em up. (ORIGINAL CHARACTERS DONOT STEAL!!!!!!XD)
> 
> 3) let me know how im writing alphys tbh?? i feel like im not quite hitting the mark with her characterization
> 
> thanks for all the love. im winging the fuck out of this fic

When Mettaton awoke the next morning, he forgot where he was. His surroundings confused him, as did the arms circling him, but the dull headache brought him back to reality.

Wait. Arms?

His eyes snapped open all the way and his heart lurched as he remembered he had shared a bed with Papyrus.

As if in response to this realization, Papyrus clutched Mettaton even closer to him. Mettaton breathed out slowly, fearing his thumping heart would wake Papyrus.

Papyrus nuzzled into Mettaton’s neck, causing a shiver to go down Mettaton’s entire body. Mettaton decided he wouldn’t mind staying here for a few more minutes. Or days.

He settled back in, shutting his eyes.

Moments later, Papyrus’s alarm sounded. Mettaton inwardly groaned. How rude of time, to pass so quickly.

Papyrus stirred, reaching over Mettaton to press the “snooze” button. He accidentally knocked the device off the end table in the process. Though it looked more like he punched it, so who knows, maybe it was part of his morning routine. Mettaton wouldn’t know. He’d never woken up with Papyrus before.

Mettaton rotated his body to face Papyrus.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, trying to act like he had just woken up as well.

“Good morning! Sorry to wake you.”

Papyrus swept a chunk of hair away from Mettaton’s eyes and flashed him a smile.

“It’s okay. What time is it, anyway?”

“Ten! I have work pretty soon.”

“Oh, okay.”

They lay staring at each other.

“How are you feeling?” Papyrus asked.

Mettaton sighed. “Bad.”

“Well! You’re welcome to stay in bed as long as you’d like. I’ve got to get up. Make sure you drink water!”

Mettaton merely nodded. Papyrus pushed the covers off him and quite literally leapt out of bed, sticking the landing. He beamed at Mettaton, who smiled back. God, what a huge dork.

Papyrus headed to his closet, retrieving his guard uniform that hung from a hook on the door. He stripped off his shirt, and Mettaton studied him with rapt attention, eyes wide. For such a tall, lean guy, Papyrus had impressive muscular definition. Mettaton knew he and Alphys sometimes went on runs together, but it looked like he also frequented the gym.

Perhaps sensing the eyes on him, Papyrus turned around, and Mettaton, beet red, stared up at the ceiling. He stayed there in embarrassment until Papyrus finished changing and wished Mettaton a good Saturday.

When he was finally off, Mettaton breathed out in relief. He truly resented Papyrus for being a responsible, job-having adult. Now that he was alone in bed, all he could do was curl up in a ball and try to ignore his headache, which was slowly worsening.

He couldn’t get back to sleep, and he finally decided to head downstairs and make breakfast when his stomach rumbled. He figured he would take Papyrus’s advice and drink water, too.

He got out of bed, wincing as his head pounded. He quickly made Papyrus’s bed and headed toward the stairs. He was halfway down when he stopped in his tracks.

“Morning,” said Sans from the couch, over a cup of coffee and a folded newspaper.

Oh, dear. Sans hadn’t even occurred to him. Mettaton had very clearly spent the night with the former’s brother, and suddenly realizing the implications of that, Mettaton’s face heated up.

“Um, h-hey.”

“Seems like you got pretty busy last night.”

Mettaton got even redder. He tried sputtering out a response. “I-It’s not--!!”

“Relax, I meant the party. Why, what else could I have meant?” He winked.

“W-we didn’t--”

“Of course you didn’t. I know my brother, and he wouldn’t dream of it. Not while you were… in that state.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Sans sipped his coffee.

“Anyway,” he said, “I made coffee. There’s cereal. That’s about it unless you feel like making something else. Up to you.”

Mettaton nodded slowly, then headed down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen, fixing himself a bowl of cereal. When he was done, he sat down beside Sans, eating.

Sans folded the paper. “You’re effectively my roommate, so I won’t sugarcoat this or be rude about it, but you gotta know something in regards to my brother.”

Mettaton swallowed the cereal he was chewing. “Yeah?”

Sans took another sip of his coffee and set it on the end table, beside a coaster with a note on it saying, “SANS, MAKE SURE YOU USE THE COASTER!!”

“My brother loves pretty hard, pretty fast. In my opinion, that’s a good thing. He’s really truthful and loyal as a result, and makes great friends afterwards.” He shook his head, smiling sadly. “But that means he gets his heart broken just as hard and fast.”

Mettaton nodded. He could understand the feeling. Sans continued.

“Not sure if you knew this, but Papyrus fell pretty hard for you in high school.”

Mettaton nearly spit out his cereal. He coughed and choked. “Sorry, _what_?”

Sans grinned. “Heh. Guess ya didn’t know. I always thought it was pretty obvious, but then again, I’m pretty perceptive when it comes to my brother. He always told me he knew you were fated to be together the moment you met.”

Mettaton blinked. “That was… that was three. No, four years ago.”

“Yeah, it went on for a while. And every time you dated someone else, he came home in tears.”

Mettaton’s heart sank. He so badly wanted to call Papyrus and tell him he had never seriously dated anyone before. They were all just flings.

“And I know it’s not your fault. You didn’t know, after all. But my point is, I'm worried Papyrus will… fall back on old ways. Get attached to you. You’ll eventually move out, and I don’t want to be presumptuous, but you’ll likely find someone else.”

Mettaton’s throat was dry. He swallowed hard but nodded. What else could he do? He had absolutely no plans on telling Sans his true feelings.

“I guess what I’m asking, Mettaton, is not to toy with Papyrus’s feelings. Don’t flirt with him for fun, because I know you like to do that with other people. Don’t lead him on. Think you can do all that?”

It took a second for Mettaton to realize he was supposed to answer. He nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure thing, friend.”

Sans stood up. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go to work. Printer’s down the hall,” he said, winking.

Mettaton cocked his head in confusion.

“Applications don’t fill out themselves,” he clarified.

Ah, right. The application. He briefly wondered how Sans knew about it.

Sans donned his blue hooded coat at the door and bid his friend good day as he went off to the hot dog stand.

 

When Papyrus parked, he didn't get out right away. Which was strange for Papyrus, as he usually bounded toward his post with eager abandon, usually twenty to forty minutes early. Today he was only five minutes early.

Truthfully, he had woken up at eight, a whole hour before his alarm. He had carefully, slowly reached over his sleeping friend and changed his alarm from nine to ten.

Even with the extra hour, it wasn't enough time. His skin tingled. He folded his arms over his chest.

“GAHH!” he yelled into the steering wheel. Why today, of all days! He could still be sleeping next to Mettaton right now.

Good grief. He sure liked his friend a whole lot! He bonked his head on the horn, and it emitted a shrill, staccato beep. Now, if any old pal on the street asked him if he had moved past his silly crush on Mettaton since high school, he would say you're DARN right!! No unrequited… likeness here! He's having a great time in the Friend Zone. He has so many friends.

Reality sure is something different than what you say to your pals!

A soft knock was heard on Papyrus’s left, and he snapped his head back up, looking through his car window at his friend, Alphys.

He gave a hearty wave before opening up the door and joining her outside. She wore a nice blouse and slacks. He wondered what the occasion was.

“I'm extremely late!” Papyrus announced, saluting.

“Uh, you're actually right on time, though? I saw you drive in on my--well, uh, th-the point is, you're here and I need your help.”

Papyrus nodded. “Of course.”

“I'll pay you overtime.”

“That's unnecessary; I will do whatever it is you need!”

She smiled, adjusting her glasses and shifting her purse on her shoulder.

“Okay! W-well we should still be quick about this. I fear it may take longer than I can afford, but I wanted to do this as soon as possible.”

“What is it?” Papyrus asked, genuinely intrigued.

“Come on, we'll take my car. I'll explain on the way.”

She led him to the VIP parking, and had to physically put a hand over his mouth to stop him from gushing over her 2010 Buick.

“Sorry, but I can't stand car talk. Save that for Undyne.”

They buckled up and she nodded at the toll person as she drove out of the lot.

“Well, uh, you're aware of my brother’s situation,” she said, glancing at Papyrus. “Heh, of course you are. That was dumb of me to say.”

She stopped at a red light. “And well, he visited me the other day, actually!”

She clammed up and stared ahead as the light turned green.

“Oh?” Papyrus prompted when she didn't go on.

She laughed nervously. “Ahh, well. It's hard. Being faced with this… this situation, and not being able to do much. I've been at a standstill. I love my parents, I really do. They've always been my biggest supporters, in my studies, my career, even my marriage, which is something I never expected. So, seeing them do something so unforgiving and cold is just a little, uh, jarring, I suppose.”

Papyrus nodded, though Alphys’s eyes were intently focused on the road. She continued.

“And the worst part is, I can understand their reasons.”

She fell silent again.

He lifted his eyebrows. “By all means, tell me!”

She stopped at another red light, and flicked on her left blinker.

“Mettaton… He kept provoking them. Oh, a-and please know that when I say I understand their reasons, I don't mean I agree with them. But Mettaton was being reckless. He would go out with friends late into the night, sometimes not returning home for days at a time. And whenever he _was_ home, he would shut himself in his room and listen to blaring music.” She paused, tapping on the wheel. The light changed and she turned. “And then there was Shyren.”

“Yes, I've heard quite the tales about this girl.”

“Ah, well, apparently she bought him all kinds of clothes in the men's section, since our parents refused to do that for him. They actually sort of refused to listen to him at all about his gender. Every attempt to talk about it was shut down. O-or, so I'm told. Anyway, she even bought him one of those chest compressors.”

“A binder?”

“Yes. And he was all dressed up, but our parents wouldn't let him leave the house. I was actually there for this fight. I was cleaning out my room during that entire week. He kept saying, ‘They're just clothes!’ And then my dad was like, ‘You're being disrespectful,’ and Mettaton was all, ‘Oh, believe me, Dad, you'll _know_ when I'm being disrespectful,’ and honestly it was pretty stressful. I don’t know what they did with those clothes, but I never saw him wear them again.” She paused, sighing. “He didn't end up going to school that day.”

Papyrus waited a moment before speaking. “What does all this have to do with where we are going?”

She pursed her lips, still looking ahead.

“We're going to my parents’ house.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“For…. what reason?”

“Mettaton wants his bike.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm really selfish. I needed emotional support.”

“No worries! I am here for you. This doesn’t make you selfish.”

“But it’s not just that! I'm a terrible person. I could have helped him out a lot more than I did.”

“You had your wedding….”

She laughed. “That's what he said, too.”

They pulled onto the street. She parked on the street in front of the house. Papyrus gazed up at the two-story townhouse. Somewhere in that house was his friend's entire life. Everything he had to leave behind.

She stayed seated, making no move to get out.

“I'm so selfish.”

“I'm telling you, you're not!”

She shook her head. “Papyrus, I d-don't want to do this. I don't want my parents to hate me. But I promised Mettaton I would do this, and this is all I can do for him. This is all I can do and I'm still a coward.”

She leaned forward against the steering wheel, shutting her eyes. Papyrus rubbed her back.

“It's not wrong of you to be apprehensive. But pull yourself together, friend!!! If you don't want to be a coward, then let go of your cowardice!”

She sat up, her eyes snapping open. “Sorry, what?”

“Hm?”

“You're telling me that. In order to not be scared. I should just. Not be scared.”

Unfazed, he nodded. “Exactly! Fear is all in the mind.”

“Of course it's in the mind!!! That is LITERALLY the definition of fear!!!”

He scratched his head. “Well, yes it's in the mind, and the only way to fight it is with your mind!”

She sighed in exasperation. “Ugh! Let's just go.”

She kicked open her door and got out. Grinning, he joined her.

“See?” he said. “Your fear is gone.”

“Oh, shut up, Papyrus.”

She locked the door and took a moment to compose herself. Then they set off across the lawn.

She knocked on the door.

After a moment she winced. “Ooh, I should have called, shouldn't I?”

Papyrus shrugged. Seconds later, however, the door opened.

Papyrus smiled politely at Mettaton and Alphys's mother, who opened the door. He had met the woman only once before. The day he met Mettaton, actually. Since then, he'd only seen her briefly in passing at Mettaton's various birthday parties.

She was an older woman, but was aging nicely. She had a full face of makeup and her thick black hair was twisted up in an intricate bun. She wore a sequined cardigan over a pink sundress. Well, now Papyrus knew where Mettaton got his style.

“Alphys!” she greeted, embracing her daughter.

They held hands, grinning at each other. Papyrus stuck his hand out between them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Ex! We've met before! I'm a close friend of your children! My name is Papyrus!”

Her face was blank for a split second, but she quickly smiled again, tilting her head and taking his hand.

“Ah, hello, Papyrus. I do believe we have met. Good to see you again. My daughters have told me a lot about you!”

Papyrus’s smile fell. He pulled his hand away.

Alphys coughed. “Um, s-so, Mom! I'm actually here for a pretty specific reason. Is Dad here?”

“Oh! Yes, he is. Come on in.”

She smiled warmly, and Papyrus did his best to return it.

They followed her in. Papyrus marveled at his surroundings, as it occurred to him that the house looked no different than when he was here last. There were intricate decorations everywhere he looked. A shelf of china plates. A vase of sunflowers. An ornate mirror. The sitting room, he thought. A floral print sofa stood against the wall opposite an old wooden desk.

“Your home is just as lovely as I recall,” Papyrus commented, hoping his voice didn't sound as hollow as it felt.

“Thank you, darling, that's kind of you to say,” Mrs. Ex said.

Papyrus frowned at the use of Mettaton's favorite pet name. He wondered if that's how he started using it.

She led them to the living room, where Mr. Ex was sitting on the couch, reading the paper. She walked past them into the kitchen. He looked up and smiled, removing his glasses from his face and letting them hang around his neck. He was a stout man, a protruding belly slightly hanging over brown slacks. His black mustache overtook nearly the entire southern half of his face.

“Alphys! Good to see you.”

He stood and they hugged.

“Hi, Dad. How have you been?”

“Oh, good! Oh, good. And who's--”

Papyrus stuck out his hand. “Papyrus, sir! I work for your daughter and I am a close personal friend!”

“I think we've met! Good to see you again, son.”

They shook hands. At least the man had a good, strong handshake.

Mrs. Ex returned with a tray of mugs.

“I hope you're not opposed to tea, Papyrus, dear.”

“Of course not! Thank you, ma'am.”

They all took a mug.

“Sit down, please,” she invited, gesturing to the couch and matching sitting chairs. Alphys sat on the couch beside her father, and Papyrus chose to sit in the rocking armchair. He sipped his tea.

“So how's your, ah, friend? Undyne?” Mr. Ex asked Alphys.

She laughed nervously. “Haha, um, y-you mean my wife? She's good.”

He nodded. “That's good.”

They all sipped their tea.

“So, Alphys. You're here for a specific reason?” her mother said.

Alphys nodded. “Oh, uhh. Y-yes. Well, you see, um, th-the thing is, I….” She sipped her tea again. “I j-just want to iterate that I'm a neutral force on this matter. Uh, that is, the matter of Mettaton. That's why I'm here. I'm simply here on my…s...sibling’s behalf.”

_Neutral force?_

Her parents exchanged glances.

“You're here because of Mettaton?” Mrs. Ex asked, a strained smile plastered on her face.

“Well… He, that is to s-say, Mettaton, she--I mean--uhh.” She drank deeply from her mug, her face red in embarrassment.

He couldn't sit watching this any longer. He cleared his throat and everyone looked to him, Alphys's eyes wide. She shook her head but he spoke anyway.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ex, your son Mettaton is a close friend of mine. He--”

Mr. Ex pursed his lips.

“Son, I’d appreciate it if you refrained from that… kind of talk. My daughter is female. That is the end of that.”

Papyrus responded after a moment.

“Sir… I hope this doesn't come off presumptuous or accusatory, but it's just that I'm wondering what my friend did to deserve homelessness.”

Alphys sighed loudly. “Papyrus, please.”

Mr. Ex held up his hand. “No, Alphys, it's a good question. And for starters, I'd hardly call it homelessness. She has so many friends; she's bound to be staying with one of them.”

Papyrus decided not to tell him where Mettaton was staying.

“You know, Papyrus, I like you,” Mr. Ex continued. “So I’ll tell you this. See, my daughter Mettaton was always a rather ambitious person. Always went and grabbed what she deemed was hers. Didn't take no for an answer.” He smiled fondly. “She was going to do great things.” He drank from his mug, his smile fading. “But she got mixed in with a bad crowd. Stayed up late, skidding into the driveway at four am with loud teenagers. I wouldn't be surprised if she did drugs with them.” He paused. “Just a couple months prior to her birthday, she called me from _prison_.” He spat the word out. 

“Dear, it was only a holding cell,” his wife said, her hand on his arm.

“Just as bad.”

“Well….” Alphys mumbled.

Mrs. Ex continued the story.

“She had gotten mixed up in some graffiti crime, or trespassing. I think it was both, actually. In any case, we gave her an ultimatum. Improve behavior, or she can no longer live under our roof and cause us stress.”

“Cause you stress,” Papyrus repeated.

“Yes. My husband and I lead extremely busy lives, and we were lucky enough to raise at least one well-behaved child. It was taking a toll on us, housing Mettaton.”

Alphys and Papyrus met glances.

“Have you thought that perhaps there was a reason for your child's mood shift?” Papyrus asked, cradling his tea.

Mrs. Ex waved her hand in dismissal. “Simply teenage hormones.”

Alphys suddenly laughed, so loud and unlike her that every head turned to her. She placed her cup down forcefully.

“You don't know him at all. You never listened to him!”

“Alphys!” her mother scolded her.

“How can you be so insensitive and selfish?” Alphys asked, standing. She looked down at them from where she stood, pointing. “He needed support, and you shut him out!”

“Darling,” said Mrs. Ex, reaching her hand out to touch Alphys’s arm. Alphys pulled away. Mrs. Ex clicked her tongue. “You know we love you. Both of you. But your sister took advantage of that love. She tried our patience. We told her we would take action, but she ignored us, and now she is paying the price. We didn’t like doing it, but she had to learn.”

Alphys twisted her face in mild disgust. “Learn? Learn what?”

Alphys’s father answered.

“We want her to get better. Learn how to return to the bright young girl we raised. And to do so, she cannot live under our roof. She has to learn on her own.”

Alphys stamped her foot in frustration. “UGH! It’s _HE_. _HE_ is my _BROTHER_.”

“Alphys, dear--”

“Don’t ‘dear’ me, Mom. It took a huge amount of courage for him to come out to you guys, and you won’t even _try_ to respect his gender?”

“ _Her_ gender is _female_!”

Alphys groaned in exasperation. Papyrus blinked, his tea growing cold on the armrest. He had often seen Alphys worked up and emotional, but never to this extent.

“This is my fault, isn’t it, Papyrus?” she asked, the beginnings of sarcasm dripping in her words. “Because _I_ came out, and my parents didn’t _throw me out_ , he thought he’d be safe, too!”

Mr. Ex stood up, anger furrowing his dark eyebrows. “Listen, here, young lady, that’s the last time you sass us. I don’t know what you think you’re saying, but we did _not_ ‘throw out’ your sister. We gave her a chance.”

Alphys rubbed her temples. “Y-yeah, okay. You keep telling yourself that. Now, if you don’t mind, Papyrus and I are going to do what we came here to do.”

Papyrus stood. “Yes! I think that would be the best course of action!”

“And what did you come here to do?” her father snapped.

“We’re getting some of Mettaton’s things for him.”

Papyrus cocked his head. “I thought we were just getting--”

“Change of plans. I’ll get the bike. Papyrus, you go grab as many of Mettaton’s things as you can. Especially his clothes and makeup. I know he most likely misses those. He’s got a suitcase under his bed, I’m pretty sure. His room is just past the bathroom.”

Mrs. Ex crossed her arms, still seated. “Now, hang on a second. Do you really think we’re letting some strange man go pawing through my daughter’s things?”

Alphys pointed right in her mother’s face. “Don’t start with me, Mom. We’ll be out in ten minutes.” She sighed, lowering her finger. “I love you too, Mom. But you and Dad are assholes.”

She left the room, and seconds later the sound of the garage door being opened filled the silence.

Papyrus scratched his head. “Well, I’d better do what she says. Since, she is my boss and everything! Heh.”

Mr. and Mrs. Ex just stared at him.

“Nice catching up!” he said before promptly turning and speed-walking down the hall.

Okay. He had ten minutes to pack the necessities of life for his high school crush.

He didn’t even need directions to the room. Posted on the door were the words “METTATON’S ROOM!!! ONLY GORGEOUS PEOPLE BEYOND THIS POINT!! E>” written in glittery pink dry erase marker on a black Expo board. Deeming himself worthy to pass the threshold, Papyrus opened the door.

He flipped on the light and was shocked to see… an absolutely plain room. To his left stood an ornate bookshelf, filled with books and notebooks. Beside it stood a wooden dresser, its drawers flung open, clothes littering the floor around it. No doubt from the last time Mettaton himself stood in this room. In the far corner was a closet, and opposite that, against the wall, was the bed, its unmade pink sheets tangled up at the foot of the mattress. On the wall at the head of the bed was a tall poster of Nicki Minaj, but other than that there were no pictures or decorations.

Wait, Papyrus was mistaken! There were indeed photos. There were three frames on the bedside table. He quickly inspected it. In one picture, Mettaton and Alphys were posing in front of a movie theatre. In another, he, Napstablook, Frisk, and Shyren were holding up freshly made tie-dye shirts. And….

Papyrus slowly reached down, picking up the third frame. It was from his high school graduation, two years previous. He remembered this photo. His right arm was embracing Mettaton, and his left arm was holding up his diploma triumphantly. But he wasn’t looking at the camera. Because he was kissing Mettaton’s cheek.

The picture was perfect. Balloons and confetti floated around, framing them nicely. This picture was candid. A photographer for a local paper took it. After the fact, she had approached them and asked for names and consent. The next day they took up practically half of the front page. Mettaton was gushing about it for days afterward.

Papyrus smiled and, filled with newfound determination, threw the photo on Mettaton’s bed and got on his knees, pulling out the suitcase.

He tugged on its pink zipper, throwing open the top. The next minutes consisted of Papyrus (carefully) shoving the contents of Mettaton’s closet and dresser into the huge pink case. After some strategic snooping, he found Mettaton’s makeup in the bedside table and threw that in too. He even managed to squeeze in Mettaton’s hair dryer and another pair of shoes he found in the closet.

When the suitcase was absolutely completely filled to the brim, and it took Papyrus sitting on the top to zip it shut, he clicked open the handle and rolled it out. He paused before turning out the light.

He was sad he never got to spend time in this room with Mettaton himself. In high school, they always spent time at either Papyrus’s or Frisk’s houses. Papyrus distinctly remembered wanting to hang out there, but Mettaton never wanted to.

Mettaton had been avoiding his home life for years.

Papyrus slowly lowered his hand, going back to the bed and retrieving the frames. He stuck them in the front pocket of the suitcase. Only then did he shut off the light, returning to the living room. The Exes were no longer there.

He rolled the suitcase out the door he and Alphys came in, and found Alphys and her parents by her car. Beside the house, the garage door was open.

As he got closer, he saw they were placing the bike in the back of Alphys’s car. They had just finished when he approached.

“Stick it in the backseat,” Alphys instructed, opening said door.

Papyrus quickly thanked her parents, and got into the passenger seat before he found himself caught up in another Ex family fight.

He viewed it from the rearview mirror. Alphys hugged both of them, and nobody said anything. She got into the car, turning her key in the ignition and leaving her parents behind in the smoke.

She was silent as they neared the end of the street. She stopped at the stop sign, putting it in park.

“Alphys?”

She turned, throwing her arms on Papyrus and bursting into tears. He patted her head.

“You were fearless, Alphys! You stood up for Mettaton! ‘Neutral force,’ my skinny butt! You’ve chosen your side, my friend!”

She lifted her head, wiping her eyes. “Your philosophy on fear is still extremely flawed. I was terrified.”

“Sometimes telling yourself you have no fear is just as good as actually having no fear. Then that makes you brave as well as fearless! For facing your fears and choosing to go forth in spite of them!”

She rolled her eyes. “Write fortune cookies, why don’t you.”

He beamed. “You think I’m that good?!”

She merely laughed, sniffing and wiping her face one more time before shifting back into D and heading left into the neighborhood once more.

They parked in Sans and Papyrus’s driveway, and Papyrus immediately got out to assist with the bike.

“Oh, I’ve got it! Bring the suitcase in,” Alphys instructed.

He nodded, doing so. Behind him, the case knocked against his legs, but he hardly noticed. He tugged it along, eager to hand it to his friend.

The front door was unlocked, and when he pushed it open, Mettaton, sprawled out on the floor amongst several sheets of paper, looked up.

“Oh, hey, back already? Can you help me with this? I’m not sure what I should put for permanent address. Oh, and I have no idea what my social security number is. Do I even have one? I--”

At that moment, Papyrus lugged the suitcase fully through the doorway, grinning.

Mettaton slowly stood.

“Papyrus…. Are those--is that….”

Instead of waiting for an answer, he squatted, setting the case down and zipping it open, covering his mouth with his hand when he saw its contents.

He stood again, looking up at Papyrus. Speechless.

In an instant, Mettaton was on him, throwing his arms around his middle and pressing his face against his chest. After the initial surprise, Papyrus melted into the hug, pulling Mettaton even closer. His chin fit perfectly on top of Mettaton’s head. His heart raced, and he wondered if Mettaton could tell.

He hadn’t hugged Mettaton like this in a while. He must remember to do it more often.

He moved his head down, pressing his forehead against Mettaton’s. In doing so, he couldn’t help but get a whiff of Mettaton’s hair. It was his own shampoo. Citrus, for color-treated hair. It was the same shampoo he’d been buying for months. But for some reason, it smelled special when it was coming from Mettaton.

“Thank you,” Mettaton choked out. Papyrus noticed then that Mettaton was crying. He wiped a tear with his thumb.

“It was Alphys! You should have seen her, Mettaton. She yelled, she cussed them out. She defended you.”

He made a noise, somewhere between a scoff and a genuine laugh. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Mettaton pulled away, looking up to face his friend. A shock ran through Papyrus’s body when he realized their lips were mere inches apart.

Just then, the doorknob turned. Papyrus and Mettaton hopped away from each other, Papyrus’s face burning. He refused to look at Mettaton as Alphys came in.

She stopped whatever speech she had started, sensing the tension. She looked between her brother and her security guard.

“Uh, h-hey,” she said, lifting her hand awkwardly.

“Alphys, thank you, darling!!” Mettaton cried, throwing his arms around his sister. “You’re wonderful!!! Papyrus told me what you said to Mom and Dad!”

“O-oh, that? Heh, I just. Wanted them to. Shut the fuck up, you know?” she said, hugging him back.

“‘I love you Mom, but you and Dad are assholes,’” Papyrus quoted.

Mettaton pulled away, his eyes wide. “Did you really say that, Alphys?”

“Ummm, well, yeah!” Alphys said, grinning sheepishly.

“Alphys, you cold bitch! I love you! I could kiss you!”

And he did, kissing her forehead before hugging her again. She giggled.

“Hey, you know, I got your bike into the shed for you! I even got the helmet!”

Mettaton wiped another tear from his face. “Oh, thank you so much Alphys! This means so much to me. I mean that so sincerely.”

Alphys nodded. “I know you do.”

They stayed for a moment, smiling at each other and grasping at each other’s arms. Alphys finally gave one last squeeze.

“Papyrus and I need to get back to work.”

“Oh!” Mettaton said, letting go of his sister to gather the papers from the floor. “I’m almost done with the application! I’m only stuck on my address and my social.”

Alphys laughed, grabbing the papers from his hands. “I don’t really look at that shit anyway when I hire.”

They hugged once more before Papyrus and Alphys left again.

Alphys wouldn’t stop smiling, even after they had parked at the lab.

She stopped the car, chuckling. “It’s been so long since I’ve connected to Mettaton like that.”

She looked to him, and he smiled.

“How are you feeling?”

She paused.

“I feel needed.”


	9. NGAHHHH!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton starts his new job! Papyrus is there too. Fishy antics ensue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy belated thanksgiving.........
> 
> Sorry this took so long to post!! multi chapter is hard, yo. esp when u dont rly. plan shit, ever. yall r like, ooh i cant wait to see what happens next!! and im like !! Lol same!!
> 
> in all seriousness, I struggled with this one a bit but I like how it came out. let me know what you think about undyne B)
> 
> on another note, ive gotten a couple fanarts!!!!!!!!! which is!!! freaking AWESOME!!!!! (see them [here ](http://mettatontrash.tumblr.com/post/133642179816/sleepingfia-submitted-it-is-done-i-like-how-this) and [here](http://mettatontrash.tumblr.com/post/133968784261/sleepingfia-submitted-so-i-actually-finished-this)!)
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE link me to any fanart that u guys do!!! IT HYPES ME THE HECK UP!! <3
> 
> alright alright ill shut up now, read the dang chap

Mettaton was just waking up when his phone rang. Startled, he flung his arm out, grabbing it from the coffee table and checking the caller id. He glanced up briefly, noticing Papyrus standing at the stove, cooking.

It was Alphys’s personal cell phone number. He answered.

“Hey, Alph.”

“Good morning, this is Dr. Alphys Ex of Dreemurr Laboratories. May I speak with a Mr. Mettaton Ex?”

Mettaton grinned, sitting up against the couch. “This is he.”

“I’m calling from the lab, in regards to the application you sent in.”

“You’re actually calling from your regular cell.”

“Oh, s-seriously? Crap. Uh, I mean!” She cleared her voice. “You got the job!”

Mettaton clicked his tongue. “Seriously? No interview or anything?”

Papyrus wandered over from the kitchen, leaning against the wall, spatula in hand. It smelled like he was burning eggs.

“W-well, we’re currently understaffed, and your records are impressive.”

“Are they. Really.”

“Ugh! Mettaton, come on! Stop being difficult!”

Mettaton chuckled. “I’m mostly kidding.”

“Oh, good. Well, um, you should text me your availability or something so Undyne can give you hours.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great!! We’re super excited to have you on the team. Both Undyne and myself.”

“Thanks, Alphys.”

“So, um! Talk to you later, then!”

Mettaton blew a kiss into the phone and hung up. He met eyes with Papyrus. “I got the job!”

Papyrus gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Congratulations! I mean, it was definitely a guaranteed thing from the start, but it must be nice to officially have it!”

Mettaton shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Is something burning?”

“OH NO.”

He ran to the stove and Mettaton laughed, getting up and tugging the bulging black and pink suitcase out from underneath the couch. He was excited to see what his friend had packed for him. He hadn’t had a chance to go through it yet. Yesterday, he’d spent nearly all day on makeup work. It was truly a remarkable thing just how much schoolwork one could stockpile after missing a week of school. It had been more than a little frustrating, since before, whenever he needed help with homework, he would message Shyren. But he was a prideful sort of dude, and basically there was no way he would ever interact with her again (unless he was truly, truly desperate).

So he was forced to complete everything on his own. And he didn’t want to ask Papyrus for help. That would have felt… weird. For reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

In the end, he left the hardest stuff for today, but that wasn’t on his mind currently. Currently, he was yanking open his suitcase and pulling out the contents (carefully).

“Oh, Papyrus, you got my blow dryer? You’re a lifesaver!”

He looked up to see Papyrus scraping something into the garbage. The latter quickly put down the pan he was holding on the back burner and joined Mettaton in the living room, sitting down on the couch behind him.

“Yeah! I was mostly pressed for time and was stuffing anything I could in there, but yes, I did have the thought that you would. Need that particular item. N-not that your hair isn’t nice when you don’t blow dry it! But I know how you like to do it anyway. Not that that’s a bad thing to do! I--”

Mettaton covered his mouth, laughing.

Papyrus blushed. “Okay, I’ll stop talking,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

“No, it’s cute.”

Papyrus’s smile fell, his eyes widening. “Really?”

Mettaton looked back down at his clothes in an ill-conceived attempt to hide his embarrassment. “Um, yeah!” He pulled out his favorite pair of heels from under a blouse. “PAPYRUS OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GOT THESE TOO??”

He sprang to his feet and immediately started putting them on.

“Heh! Yeah! Like I said, it was mostly random.”

Mettaton immediately began to strut. He struck a pose by the stairs and Papyrus politely clapped.

“Oh, my. It’s been a while since….” he trailed off.

“Since?”

Mettaton ran a hand through his hair, smiling. “Since I felt sexy.”

Papyrus laughed loudly, startling Mettaton. Hands on his hips, Mettaton strutted back to his friend.

“Hey, it’s not funny! My self-image has been a bit in the dumps lately.”

“Oh, wow, I wasn’t laughing at you! It’s just that, being sexy all the time, is sort of, your thing? Uh, not to sound weird! You just. Have a habit of exuding sexiness literally always! Huh. That came out wrong. Uhh….”

Mettaton raised an eyebrow at him and slowly sat down beside him, crossing his legs. “Go on.”

Papyrus was visibly flustered now as he fumbled for the right words. “Well, I just find it odd that you would even consider yourself less than very sexy at any given point. This conversation is getting out of my control, and I’m sorry. I wish I could bail.”

Mettaton threw his head back and laughed, genuinely. “Papyrus, darling, you’re too funny. Even when you don’t mean to be.”

“Oh. Heh. You’re welcome! Or rather, thanks. I think.”

Mettaton lifted his legs up onto the couch and removed the heels. He dropped them back into the case and hugged his knees to his chest.

“It’s reassuring to hear that. Oh, I know looks aren’t everything. But they’re, um, very important to me.”

He had no idea where he was going with this, and, afraid he would start to babble and end up saying something embarrassing, he shut up. Before Papyrus could press, Mettaton shot back up off the couch and returned to the suitcase.

“I really do appreciate this. I told Alphys she didn’t need to get anything else. I should have known she’d do it anyway.”

He noticed there was stuff in the front pocket. He unzipped it.

“It seemed to be pretty out of nowhere, actually!” Papyrus said, resting his elbows on his knees as he peeked over Mettaton’s shoulder.

Mettaton didn’t really hear, though, because he was too focused on the photos in his hand.

“So you grabbed these.” He shifted around and met Papyrus’s eyes, smiling. “Thanks. It occurred to me I forgot them.” He ran his thumb over the edge of the top one. “Especially this one. This is the only one I don’t already have on my phone.”

Papyrus beamed. “It’s a great picture! I look extremely triumphant in it.”

“Sure do!”

Mettaton looked around, frowning. “I don't exactly have a good place for them.”

“Well, how about the coffee table?”

“Oh, you know how Sans likes to lounge on top of it sometimes.”

Papyrus nodded. “And I respect him for that.”

Mettaton reached over and put the frames back in the case. “I'll hopefully have a place of my own soon.”

He slipped them in one at a time, lingering for half a second longer on the third one. The kiss.

“You're graduating pretty soon, aren't you?” Mettaton asked, zipping the pocket shut.

Papyrus nodded. “Two weeks from this Friday is finals week! Then a week after that is the ceremony.”

“I'll definitely be there.”

“You’re done soon as well, right?”

Mettaton groaned. “I wish. I have almost two months left.”

“I’ll be there, too.”

Mettaton smiled to himself and selected an outfit for the day.

****

Minutes after sending his availability to Alphys, Mettaton received his schedule from Undyne via email. Mondays he shared a shift with Papyrus.

Papyrus was elated, but Mettaton found himself feeling… something else. Nervousness? Apprehension?

He was still trying to sort out his feelings a day later in Papyrus’s car. Papyrus talked the entire car drive, telling him about closing procedures and what to do if a drunk guy comes in with a dead chicken. Apparently there was a whole new subsection of the handbook dedicated to such a situation.

Mettaton said nothing until they parked.

“Papyrus, I’m scared.”

Papyrus paused, turning to him. “Scared of what?”

Mettaton groaned and dropped his head on the dash. “I’m scared I’m gonna hate this job!!! Ugh.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I know you enjoy it, but it’s gonna bore the daylights out of me, I just know it. Sitting in a toll booth? Waiting to press a button and swipe cards and handle change? _I_ wanted to apply to be a waiter. Maybe I could have worked at Grillby’s.” He lifted his head up. “Maybe I’m being picky. But you know me!! I can’t be holed up!! I need _glitz_.”

Papyrus blinked. “Why’d you apply here, then?”

Mettaton sighed. “I did it for Alphys. I know she feels like she hasn’t helped me enough. She has this, like, _thing_ , where she thinks she has to protect me all the time, and if something happens to me, it’s her fault. I guess it took some maturing for me to realize it was out of love, and not just really annoying. I always thought she was clingy, growing up.”

Papyrus unlocked the door and they got out.

“Well,” he said, locking the car, “just stick to your plan! Save money, move out. Unfortunately, growing up means you have to work jobs you hate.”

“That’s terrible, I hate that.”

“Welcome to adulthood!”

Mettaton groaned again but said nothing, heading toward the toll booth with Papyrus.

“Hm,” said Papyrus. “Undyne should be here by now.”

“Well, we are fifteen minutes early.”

He'd barely gotten the words out when they were suddenly plunged into darkness.

“What the--”

“Chapter 3, subsection 8!” Papyrus called out from beside him. “In the event of a power outage, generator lights will appear approximately ten seconds after the outage! Following that, on duty guard will man the elevator while the toll guard continues their job from the window!”

The lights came on, followed by a shrill alarm.

“What on earth is going on?” Mettaton asked, but Papyrus was too busy shouting out procedures.

“In the event of a carbon monoxide leak, on duty guard must man the stairs and evacuate everyone currently in the building! Toll guard must keep contact with Dr. Alphys until all persons have left the building!”

The alarm stopped. Mettaton waited in apprehension for… whatever came next.

Suddenly, the elevator across the lot dinged, and out ran a tall, red-headed figure with a hat, sunglasses, and trench coat on, holding a rubber chicken.

“Is that Undyne--”

“Chapter 10!! Subsection 19a!! In the event of a drunk man holding a dead chicken, threatening to rub it on the toll booth if we don't let him in for free, lock the doors! On duty personnel, call Undyne! Toll booth personnel, call the police!”

She dropped the chicken just as she approached them, and ripped off the disguise.

“Nice work, Papyrus!!!”

Mettaton stood slack jawed.

She turned to him. “Read up on that rule book, kid, and you'll be good as Papyrus one day!”

Mettaton frowned. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Undyne threw her arm around him. “Hey, just because we're family now, doesn't mean I can't kick your ass if you don't know your shit!” She laughed, showing her full mouth of jagged, uneven teeth. Jeez. Get that girl some braces.

“Noted,” Mettaton said, smiling thinly as he removed her arm from his shoulder.

“So today's training! You excited?”

Mettaton hesitated. “Uh--”

“OF COURSE YOU ARE! And you'll be trained by the best of the best.” She grinned. “Which of course is Papyrus. I'll leave you to it, then!”

In the blink of an eye she was gone, grinning and waving at them from the elevator as the doors slid shut on her.

“Does she do that often?” Mettaton asked, turning to Papyrus.

Papyrus nodded. “At least once a month! And every time there’s an addition to the handbook.”

“Do I seriously have to memorize it?”

“Welllll, you don’t _have_ to….”

Mettaton rolled his eyes and headed toward the toll booth. “Whatever. Just show me how to run this joint.” He hopped up onto the cement step and jiggled open the door.

Papyrus followed him in, flipping on the lights.

“Wow, it’s tiny in here,” Mettaton said, sitting down in the wheeled office chair.

“There’s only ever one person in here at a time.”

“Do you work in here at all?”

“I used to! But then _I_ ,” --he stuck his thumb into his chest-- “got _promoted_.”

Mettaton chuckled. “Well, congrats.”

Papyrus beamed. “So! Training.”

“Yeah. Training.”

Mettaton was suddenly aware of just how small the space was. Papyrus sat on the desk, picking up a book labelled, “HANDBOOK, EDITION 10.2!!!”

He flipped through it, then shut it again. “So, what exactly do you mean by ‘glitz’?”

Mettaton sighed. “Sorry, I really didn’t mean to insult your job.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Mettaton lifted his legs up and spun around in the chair. “Glitz! You know. Bright lights. The stage.” He threw his arms out for extra drama.

Papyrus set the book down and leaned forward on the desk. “You mean, like, theatre?”

Mettaton stopped spinning and rested his legs on Papyrus’s lap. “Sure. Or a professional singing career. I just want to perform.”

“Didn’t you have an important part in the play?”

Mettaton looked away, scoffing. “The lead, more like. But I blew it. Was too preoccupied with _other_ things, I suppose.”

Papyrus tentatively ran his hand lightly up the length of Mettaton’s calf. Mettaton shivered.

“I think it’s better you’re not in it anymore.”

Their eyes locked.

“Why’s that?” Mettaton asked softly.

Papyrus grinned. “You get to spend more time with me this way!!”

Mettaton smiled back. “Yeah. I guess we haven’t seen each other much since you graduated.”

“What can I say? Community college takes its toll!”

“That’s one good thing about all this. Reconnecting with you has been a lot of fun.”

Papyrus gave another small smile. “Well, I’m a fun person!”

Mettaton chuckled, nudging Papyrus with his feet. “I really needed that fun. I didn’t even know I needed it until I had it. Thank you.”

They stared at each other wordlessly again. Mettaton’s heart flipped. Had he said something wrong? Why was Papyrus so quiet?

Before he could ruin the moment by speaking, a tinny rustling crackled in the corner of the ceiling. They both turned their heads to the sound. A small gray speaker was mounted against the far wall, through which Alphys’s unmistakable voice came.

“Undyne no, stop!! I don’t like to use that for--”

“ALRIGHT!! If you two are quite finished, I BELIEVE YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO!!!”

“Undyne, give it back! I’m sorry, boys, please continue. I-I mean!! The training! Continue the training! I’m not eavesdropping!!”

“Yeah, she’s just spying on you!”

“Undyne, shut it! Okay, I’m sorry, I’m h-hanging up now. Well, t-technically I can’t exactly do that, but I’ll mute the mic. Oh my god I’m shutting up now.”

Mettaton groaned, leaning his head back in the chair. “Alphys has a camera in here, doesn’t she.”

The crackling returned.

“Yup, she does!”

“UNDYNE!!”

Mettaton lowered his legs and stood up. “Well, I guess we should do this thing now, huh.”

Papyrus nodded, fumbling for the handbook. “I think that would be best.”

And so, for the next hour, they sat side by side on the desk, scouring the handbook. Afterward, Papyrus gave an extremely thorough debriefing of the opening and closing procedures, despite the fact that Mettaton had neither an opening nor a closing shift.

When they finished, Papyrus sprang out the door.

“I’ll be back!”

He returned seconds later, carrying a uniform on a hanger.

“Oh, goodness. That’s not for me, is it?” Mettaton asked, grimacing at the mess. He hated how he looked in button-up. And dark blue on black? Yikes.

“Sure is! I’ll wait outside while you change.”

“Just turn around, I’ll make it quick.”

“O-okay!”

Mettaton smirked as Papyrus about-faced, the latter clearly flustered at this turn of events.

He dropped his skinny jeans to his ankles, making Papyrus jump slightly at the thud of the belt against the floor.

Mettaton chuckled softly. “Thanks for getting my belts, by the way, darling. Much appreciated.”

Papyrus nervously laughed. “Uhh, of course! I noticed you, uh, didn’t pack any.”

Mettaton kicked his pants aside and pulled off his shirt next. He stood in his undies for a second, enjoying seeing Papyrus fidget.

“Are you almost done?” Papyrus asked after a second.

Mettaton took the shirt off its hanger. “Yeah, yeah.”

When he’d pulled on the pants and tucked the shirt in, he let Papyrus know.

Papyrus spun around, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Mettaton’s face burned. “What!”

Papyrus giggled. “Wowie, that’s. Wow.”

Mettaton shoved him, but he was laughing too. “Shut up! Okay, it’s not flattering, but whatever! I’m just sitting in a booth! Right?? No one even has to see me! STOP LAUGHING!”

“Maybe I should try and find a smaller size!”

“Oh my god, the tag says small!”

Papyrus was doubled over laughing by now. “I’m sorry! Gosh, you just look so silly!”

Mettaton shoved him again, and this time he fell over. He was literally rofl’ing.

“Just go do your job and let me wallow in self-pity!”

Papyrus stood, wiping a tear. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m gone.”

And he left, waving as he shut the door.

Mettaton sat at the desk, his smile slowly fading. He’d thought maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad, but then he remembered he only had one shift with Papyrus. And they weren’t even normally together for it.

He sighed and dropped his head on his hand. This was going to be a long four hours.

******  
**


	10. dust motes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's never too early in the day for flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry updates are a little slow, it's the end of the semester and i'm #suffering
> 
> im also sorry this chapter is a little short but what can ya do
> 
> i got some really big stuff planned for next chapter tho!!!! papyrus is graduating >;^)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for menstruation!! nothin 2 gross but it could be potentially triggering. 
> 
> im sorry about all the triggering stuff.. rip.. this story is meaning more to me than i ever thought it would, and im reflecting a lot of my own personality and experience as a trans person onto Mettaton which is changing how i originally thought the story would go.
> 
> ON ANOTHER NOTE! i got some more CUTE A*S FANART!! please go [check it out!!!](http://mettatontrash.tumblr.com/post/134761422396/i-wanted-to-draw-this-for-you-as-thanks-for-the) and please link me fanart if u draw any aaaa i love to see it!!
> 
> ok ok sorry abt the ridiculously long chapter notes omg

And so Mettaton’s life sluggishly continued. He went to school. When he wasn’t at school, he was at work. When he wasn’t at work, he was doing homework. When he wasn’t doing homework, he was sleeping. Projects and papers piled up, and a hundred times every day Mettaton wondered if it was worth it, why he was doing this. His peers avoided him like the plague. Some even went out of their way to give him a hard time, tripping him in the hall, throwing soda on his locker, calling him names. Frisk and Napstablook were the only ones who stood up for him.

The days blurred together. He would accidentally fall asleep in his clothes, only to wake up the next morning at 7, forced to do it all over again. Anyone who ever says that the last two months of senior year are anything resembling easy is lying to themselves.

One morning, Mettaton woke up with a start, still wearing his jeans and hoodie from the day before. His textbooks from last night’s studying session were on the coffee table now, and a quilt was draped over him.

He checked his phone. Five thirty. He moved to get up, and was struck with sudden pain in his abdomen.

_Oh god. Nooooooooooo._

Date. What’s the date.

_The 29th. It’s three days early what the HECK._

Panic suddenly shot through him. He scrambled to his feet, checking the couch. Oh, thank god, it was fine.

He grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom.

When he was done, he heard footsteps down the stairs. He re-entered the living room as Papyrus put on a pot of coffee. Papyrus turned around, smiling at his friend.

“Morning, friend!” Papyrus said cheerily.

Mettaton grunted in response, heading back to the couch and collapsing. A nasty cramp rolled through him, and he groaned, pulling his knees to his chest. He was grateful he’d packed supplies, but he wished he’d grabbed some aspirin.

“My finals start today!” Papyrus said, getting out a mug. Mettaton grunted again. With his stomach churning this bad, he didn’t trust himself to open his mouth.

Mettaton squeezed his eyes shut. He listened to Papyrus shuffling about in the kitchen, talking about his classes. He soon joined Mettaton on the couch, sipping coffee.

“Huh. Are you okay?” he finally asked, placing his mug on the coffee table. “Schoolwork got you down? Or maybe it’s just too early. I can never tell. I love early mornings.”

Mettaton opened his eyes and glared.

“Oh. Gosh.”

“Papyrus,” Mettaton mumbled, propping himself up to better meet his gaze. “You’re being too loud.”

The movement and the speaking was too much, and he doubled over, hands pressed down on his lower stomach. He groaned.

“You don’t look too good. Do you have a stomachache?” Papyrus asked.

Why was he so clueless? Was he really going to make Mettaton say it?

“Maybe you should stay home today,” Papyrus said. He rubbed Mettaton’s back.

Mettaton lifted his head. “No, I’ll be fine,” he managed to say. “Do you have aspirin?”

“Oh. Yes, I do. But I think you should stay home! If you have a bug, you wouldn’t want it to pass onto your peers!”

Mettaton laughed. “Yes, I would.”

But that moment of bitterness wasn’t worth it. He clapped a hand over his mouth, and stood up, running to the bathroom. He made it to the toilet, but he only dry-heaved.

Papyrus, mere steps behind him, knelt beside Mettaton, rubbing his back with one hand and holding his hair back with the other.

Mettaton coughed but nothing else came. “It’s almost never this bad.”

“It’s your period, isn’t it?” Papyrus asked, letting go of Mettaton’s hair. Mettaton shivered as Papyrus’s fingers lingered lightly on his neck.

_Oh, finally, he catches on._

He nodded.

Pause.

“Want me to make brownies?”

Mettaton leaned back into Papyrus’s lap, briefly shutting his eyes. “Maybe later. I have to get to school.”

With that, he carefully stood. His stomach was still turning, but he’d endured worse before.

“Whoa, hold on! You!! Can’t go to school!”

He stretched his arms out, blocking Mettaton’s exit. But Mettaton ducked under his arm with ease, amused enough to giggle.

“I just need aspirin. Then I’ll be fine. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

He clamped his mouth shut, feeling another wave of nausea as he made his way back to the couch. He pulled out his suitcase and began rummaging. Papyrus followed shortly after, sitting on the couch as Mettaton pulled out his binder. The small, black Underworks with the zip in the front. Thirty-five in cash, paid for in full by Shyren. Two nights of babysitting money.

“You know,” Mettaton said quietly, letting the fabric slip through his fingers and fall atop the other clothes. “If I went on T, I’d stop getting it. My period.”

Papyrus raised his eyebrows. “Do you… do you want to do that?”

Mettaton shrugged, looking down at the binder. “Probably not. Who knows.”

“You always seem comfortable in your own skin.”

Mettaton frowned. “Well, it’s not that I’m _not_ comfortable. I just wonder sometimes. What it’d be like.”

Papyrus was looking at Mettaton, but Mettaton refused to look back. He didn’t want pity, and he knew that was the look Papyrus was giving him.

Mettaton stood, slinging the binder over his shoulder, shooting a winning _~Mettaton~_ smile. “Ah, well. Better get going.”

“Mettaton, wait!” Papyrus said, shooting up from his seat.

Mettaton turned around, startled. “Yes, darling?”

“I just want to tell you that!! Whatever you decide to do or don’t do to your body, I’ll support you 100% of the way!! And you’d still be gorgeous, no matter what!” His confidence visibly deflated a bit as he looked away and scratched at his neck. “Uh, not as though I’m implying that my opinion is some kind of dealbreaker! Or that you should even consider it! But you should, because it’s true! It’s a true opinion, which makes it a fact! Nyeh.” He nodded, satisfied with his speech.

Mettaton blinked, his mouth open. They stared at each other for a moment as the sun’s rays began stretching across the room from the kitchen window. Dust motes danced between them as a car drove by outside.

Mettaton lifted a hand to his mouth and chuckled, shutting his eyes, shaking his back, trying not to cry. When he pulled himself together, he stepped forward, closing the space between he and Papyrus.

He looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Careful, Paps,” he said, before leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Or I might fall for you.”

He backed away, relishing in Papyrus’s wide eyes and pink cheeks, before spinning around on the balls of his feet and practically strutting away to the bathroom.

When he shut the door behind him, he leaned against it and slid to the floor, letting the tears flow.

_God. How pathetic._

Sans flashed before his eyes.

_“I guess what I’m asking, Mettaton, is not to toy with Papyrus’s feelings. Don’t flirt with him for fun, because I know you like to do that with other people. Don’t lead him on. Think you can do all that?”_

He ran his hand down his face, wiping his tears. Great. He’d already broken the one rule he had to follow. But he couldn’t help it. Papyrus had completely caught him off guard with such an earnest pledge. Such eagerness to support him, with no personal gain whatsoever except the happiness of a friend. It left Mettaton speechless. So he responded in the one way he knew how. Default flirting. Ugh.

He smacked his palms down on his head, pulling at his hair. _WHy AM I SO STupid??_

He didn’t deserve Papyrus. Papyrus deserved someone better than Mettaton. Papyrus deserved someone who would shower him with love and unconditional support. How the hell would Mettaton manage that when he couldn’t even properly love _himself_ half the time?

He had to get over this crush. He’d had his chance in high school, over and over, and he blew it every time. He couldn’t drag Papyrus back into that, only to back out at the last second because of fear. Because he was inadequate and he feared Papyrus getting close enough to figure that out on his own.

Mettaton shakily stood up and assessed his reflection in the mirror. The sun had barely risen and he’d already had a mental breakdown. That had to be a record.

He ran a facecloth under the sink and dabbed at his red and blotchy skin. Damn it. His skin wasn’t used to all this crying. Soon he’d completely break out in hives at the first sniffle.

He opened the cabinet below the sink and retrieved his makeup bag. He selected his concealer and foundation. Easy fix. No one had to know.

When he was made up and changed into his binder, he went back to an empty living room, trying to ignore the disappointment. Papyrus must have left mid-breakdown.

Sighing, he dropped his pants and threw off his shirt, rummaging through the suitcase again. As he selected an outfit, he heard the unmistakable sound of Papyrus’s bedroom door opening. _FUCK!!!_

He shot up, eyes immediately going to the hook on the wall. Dammit, the keys were still there!! He should have known!!

He turned around just as Papyrus did. They stared.

“I thought you left,” Mettaton said, standing there in a half binder and pink panties. Papyrus was clutching something to his chest.

“I… I got the aspirin….”

“You don’t keep that in the bathroom???”

“No??”

“Well, um,” Mettaton said as Papyrus stood there doing absolutely nothing. “Thanks. I’m gonna. Finish getting dressed now.”

“Oh, god, I’m sorry!!” Papyrus said, his glowing face visible from where Mettaton stood. He turned his back as Mettaton quickly slipped on his clothes.

“Ok, I’m done.”

Papyrus waited a couple moments before descending the steps and stretching his arm out as he came closer. Mettaton smiled and took the bottle.

“I’ll see you later, dear.” He took his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

_Don’t wink at him. Mettaton Ex, don’t you DARE wink at that boy as you leave the house. I’m warning you now._

He lingered in the doorway for a moment before winking at Papyrus and heading out.

_DAMN IT._

He was never going to get over this crush.


	11. graduation part 1: can it, larry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's not a true kayden fanfiction if it isn't self-aware at least once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey remember when i regularly posted chapters to this one papyton fanfiction
> 
> im SUPER sorry i havent posted in approx. forever, unfortunately i was really busy during the holidays, and when i wasnt busy i wasnt really feeling Inspired(TM)
> 
> part 2 is almost done. i wanted to post them both at the same time but figured i might as well post this one seeing as its Done, and part 2 is taking me longer than i thought it would. 
> 
> anyway, enjoy!! i hope u like when characters talk to each other because theres a lot of that

Mettaton tapped his fingers on the armrest of the couch as he waited with Sans. He fixed his hair and fiddled with the folds of his skirt before adjusting his blouse and crossing one leg over the other.

Sans lowered his book. “Someone’s antsy.”

Mettaton looked around before gesturing to himself. “You’re talking about me?”

Sans chuckled. “He’ll be down in a second.”

Before Mettaton could defend himself--it's not as though he were nervous and maybe excited to see Papyrus’s graduation outfit, that would be absurd--Papyrus’s door burst open. A cold draft washed down on Sans and Mettaton as they stood up. Mettaton had to squint at the sudden brightness.

Standing in the doorway, wind blowing his graduation robe, bright light shining from behind him creating a dramatic silhouette, was none other than Papyrus.

Mettaton’s jaw dropped. What a fantastic display! He couldn’t have done it better himself.

Sans applauded. “Wow, good job Pa--”

“WAIT, WAIT IT’S NOT FINISHED.”

He leaned back into his room for a moment, allowing the full brightness of the work lamps to nearly blind Mettaton and Sans. When he returned, the chorus of Queen’s _We Are The Champions_ played at full volume.

Mettaton couldn’t take it anymore. He squealed in excitement, clapping his hands and jumping up and down.

“Oh, bravo, bravo, darling!!!” He ran forward, pulling out his phone and taking pictures. Papyrus immediately started posing. “This is going to be fabulous!!!”

Sans laughed. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Papyrus put his hands on his hips. “SANS!! Don’t be confusing and weird!”

Mettaton turned back, phone in hand, glaring at Sans.

Sans merely shrugged, smirking as he headed toward the front door. “Alright, sorry. Well, if you're done, we have to get going.”

“What?” Mettaton protested. “But we just started!”

“You haven't even gotten my best side yet!” Papyrus added, posing once more.

“But _every_ side is your best side!” Mettaton said in distress.

“Which is why we need to stay and keep working a while longer, BROTHER!” He directed the last word toward Sans by the door, whose hand had barely touched the knob.

“Come on, Papyrus. I don't like being the bad guy. I don't have a mean _bone_ in my body.”

“Huh? Why'd you stress that word, like it was a pun?” Papyrus asked. “I don't think that was a pun, do you, Mettaton?”

Mettaton shrugged.

Sans chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose that one doesn't quite work as well here. Anyway, let's go, we don't want a repeat of your high school graduation.”

Papyrus sighed. “Oh, alright. I'll turn off the lamps. And the fans.” He dragged his feet slowly up the stairs.

“What happened last graduation?” Mettaton asked.

Sans opened the front door and stepped out, holding it open. “Remember? He and I were so late he almost missed his speech.” He smiled fondly. “Alright, well, make sure he gets out here soon. I'll start it up.” He let the door shut.

Mettaton wished he could remember Papyrus’s valedictorian speech better. It had something to do with patience. And a dog.

Papyrus bounded down the steps, landing beside Mettaton in just two leaps. He pointed down at Mettaton’s phone.

“I'll need two copies of every picture, one set for my school to hang up in the faculty offices, and one set for me. Or wait, maybe three sets so I can pass one out to every classroom, so every subsequent student will remember my face! Actually, make it four.”

Mettaton laughed, pocketing his phone. “Who's the fourth set for?”

“You, obviously!”

Mettaton’s smile widened. “Wow, really? You sure I’m worthy?” he asked playfully, batting his eyelashes.

Papyrus gently took his hands. “Of course you are!! Look, um.” He paused.

Mettaton’s heart surged. Papyrus never hesitated.

“Mettaton, I've been thinking about what you said a couple weeks ago. About your self-image. It broke my heart. I just… I want you to know that you're the most stunning, fabulous person in my life and you inspire me everyday. And I've wanted to…. Uh. I want to… I want to go now!!! So, um, let's go!!”

As suddenly as the moment began, it was over and he was sprinting out the door, leaving Mettaton standing there with his mouth open and his eyes blinking in shock.

His self image?

_“My self image has been a bit in the dumps lately._ ”

Oh. Right. Was that still true? He could barely tell anymore. He never had time these days to dwell on those thoughts. He had a senior year to not fail. School and work was taking up all his headspace.

But Papyrus had been worrying about him. A comment Mettaton said weeks ago was still in the front of Papyrus’s brain.

_Maybe community college seniors have it easier than high school seniors. Yeah. He's got more time to think about other things._

Plus, he didn't blame Papyrus for worrying about him. He stays up all night, falls asleep on textbooks, and constantly cries. Anyone who cared about Mettaton even a tiny bit would be worried sick at his behavior.

The horn knocked him out of his thoughts, and he quickly followed the brothers outside and into Papyrus’s car.

 

Unfortunately, this time around Papyrus was not the valedictorian. Not even the salutatorian. However, he'd received summa cum laude and practically ran down the outdoor stage and ripped the speaker’s hand off before they even finished saying his name.

Mettaton and Sans, joined by Undyne and Alphys, screamed and cheered for Papyrus for so long afterward that a security guard threatened to remove them from the premises.

There was a surprising amount of speeches made, more than Mettaton expected for a community college. The president, the valedictorian, the salutatorian, two alumni, a veteran teacher, and even an address from the state senator. Mettaton would have been lying if he said he wasn't bored. He couldn't even see Papyrus from where he was seated.

When it finally, _finally_ ended, Mettaton shot up from his seat to get a glimpse of the newly-graduated Papyrus. Sans chuckled beside him.

Mettaton gasped. “I see him!! There he is!”

Sure enough, there he was, coming up through the aisles, sandwiched between two other graduates.

Mettaton hurried forward, gently pushing past people waiting for their graduate as well. He caught Papyrus at the very last row, nearly out of breath.

Papyrus stopped walking and grinned even bigger than before. Graduates behind him called for him to move but he stayed still, too focused on Mettaton to properly hear the complains and adjust his position.

“I… Congratulations,” Mettaton said. He wondered if he should feel foolish. He realized he didn't care.

“Thank you,” Papyrus responded, clutching his diploma tight.

It occurred to Mettaton that he'd run out of things to say.

Before he could make a decision on what to do next, Papyrus took Mettaton by the waist with both hands and pulled him into a hug. Mettaton threw his arms around Papyrus’s neck.

“I'm glad you're here,” he said, squeezing Mettaton tighter. They hadn't been there long when someone ran past them, knocking into them and causing them to stumble apart.

Just then, Alphys, Undyne, and Sans came over.

“There he is!” called Sans, clapping his brother on the back. “Chef Papyrus.”

“H-hey, summa cum laude! That's awesome!” said Alphys.

Undyne nudged him in the ribcage. “Gonna cook something good for us tonight?? You better give me the best stuff, I'm the first cooking teacher you ever had!! Frankly, you owe me!”

Papyrus gasped suddenly, shoving his diploma and cap at Mettaton. “I gotta get to the reception!” Without another word, he pushed past his friends and sprinted across the grass toward the main building.

“Cooking classes are catering,” Sans explained to the bewildered group.

“Alright, we get to eat!” Undyne shouted, rubbing her hands together.

They set off across the lawn as other ceremony goers around them folded up their chairs and blankets.

“We never even got to take pictures,” Alphys said when they reached the parking lot. She looked down at the camera around her neck. “I took lessons.”

“Relax, babe, we can take plenty of pictures of Papyrus hard at work!” Undyne reassured her.

“But I don't want to take pictures at the reception! I-I want to eat!”

“Isn't that why it's on a necklace? You can multitask! Besides, weren't those lessons free with that coupon you got with the camera?”

“W-well, it’s not like I HAD to go!”

They continued their mild bickering as Sans slowed his pace. When Mettaton noticed, he matched it.

“What's up?” Mettaton asked. At first, Mettaton wasn't even sure if Sans heard him.

But soon enough, Sans glanced over at Mettaton. “What are your plans after you graduate?”

Mettaton looked down at the ground. “Oh, uh. Well, Blooky and I were gonna get a place together. I told you.”

“How do you suppose that's gonna work? You're not making much money right now. Neither is Napstablook. There aren't many cheap places around here. Closest area’s down by Hotland, and it's pretty unsafe there. Plus that's a long haul to the high school. Napstablook still planning on finishing school? They're gonna need money for transportation. You'd be hard pressed to find a landlord that's gonna accept a situation like yours.”

“Accept?” Mettaton repeated, his brows furrowing.

Sans motioned to head into the parking lot. He used the remote key to find Papyrus’s Nissan in the sea of cars. “I mean, you know you have to apply, right? You have to find out when the lease is. There's competition, you know. I just want you to think about this stuff before it's too late. You may need to rethink your plan, kid.” They stopped at their car and Sans opened up the back door.

Mettaton frowned. “Why should I do that? I know what I want to do.” He clenched his fist around the edge of Papyrus's diploma.

“Welp, then that's fine. Just make sure your decisions are informed. I couldn't in good conscience let you make a choice you might regret. Believe it or not, I consider you a friend. There's a lot more preparedness involved in adulthood that you don't always expect. And I wouldn't want you _tiring_ yourself out so quickly.” He kicked the back tire to emphasize the pun.

Mettaton slowly put Papyrus's things into the car. “Thanks,” he finally said.

Sans locked the car and they headed back toward the school.

“You ever think about the C word?” Sans asked as they got closer.

“If you mean college, no. I don't want to go,” Mettaton answered, probably snappier than he intended.

Sans shrugged. “It's cool. Not everyone goes. I didn't.”

Mettaton cocked his head. “I thought you worked at the lab for a while before Alphys?”

“Sure did. And not a single college degree on me. World’s weird like that sometimes.”

They stepped through the front entrance into the main foyer, and the din of low voices and laughter surrounded them, dissipating their conversation like burning dew.

They spotted Undyne and Alphys at the end of a buffet table, small paper plates piled high with little egg rolls and raviolis and meatballs and sausages and--

“GUYS!!” Undyne called, spearing a sausage with a toothpick and waving it around above her head. When they got over, she popped the sausage in her mouth. “Oh, thank god you two are here. Listen. We're running out of room on our plates. LISTEN CAREFULLY.” She put her hand on Mettaton’s shoulder. “You need to get more plates for us so we can save our spot in line.”

Mettaton shook her hand off. “Haven't you guys had enough?” he asked, eyeing their plates.

The couple shared a glance before bursting into laughter.

“Hey, your friend’s right,” said a deep voice behind them.

Undyne showed her fist to the huge bulky guy behind them. “Can it, Larry!!”

“You two know each other?” Sans asked, visibly amused.

“We met in line,” Undyne said, glaring at Larry. “And I can take him with my eyes shut!!!”

“Try me, little lady. I’m a Veteran.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Mettaton interrupted, “but where's Papyrus?”

“By the front,” Alphys answered, clearly engrossed in the intense rivalry before her.

“Don’t forget our plates!” Undyne called as they walked away.

“If anything happens, I'm not related to them,” Mettaton said as he and Sans headed to the front of the line.

True to Alphys's word, Papyrus was behind the first table, wearing a chef hat and apron over his graduation robe. The long sleeves were held back with clothespins. Mettaton smiled at that.

Papyrus busily dished out spoonful after spoonful of cheesy ziti onto the empty paper plates of the hungry graduates and their families and friends.

Mettaton quickly got in line, grabbing a plate. “This looks good,” he said as Papyrus served a person ahead of Mettaton.

“I wanted to serve spaghetti but according to my teacher it's too easy to make and too hard to judge portions! That's just silly, if you ask me,” he said, slapping down a serving so big onto the next person’s plate he nearly sent it crashing to the floor.

Mettaton held out his plate with some degree of wariness. Papyrus carefully spooned out the perfect amount of noodles (there wasn't any cheese but Mettaton wasn't about to ask for it). Mettaton quietly stepped out of line and leaned against the wall beside Papyrus, eating the ziti as the line went on. Mettaton was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the pasta.

“So what’s your big plan in life now that the community college hill has been overcome?” Mettaton asked when there was a lull in the line. He shoved his empty plate under Papyrus’s nose. Papyrus took the hint and gave him seconds.

“Big plan?” He set the spoon down and looked down at his serving gloves.

“Yeah, like. Do you think you’re gonna go to a four year school now? ‘Cause, like, that’s a thing people do sometimes. Not that I’m saying you have to do it. Big plans don’t have to involve school. You could move out, or fly a plane somewhere, or audition for American Idol, even though I think they’re done with that show now so maybe not that.”

Papyrus kept looking down at his gloves in silence. Aw, shit. Mettaton was pressuring him to answer, wasn’t he? For Christ’s sake, the poor boy hasn’t been a college graduate for an hour and Mettaton was already bombarding him just like Sans was to him in the parking lot.

Maybe he was just unsure. Weirdly, that would make Mettaton feel better.

Papyrus finally looked up, though he still didn’t meet Mettaton’s eyes. “I want to get married.”

Mettaton nearly choked on his ziti. Well. That wasn’t expected.

“Oh. Wow. That’s. Definitely a big plan.”

Papyrus finally glanced at Mettaton. “Yeah. When I was fifteen, I promised myself I’d get married before I was thirty. But I wanted to focus on school first.”

“What happens if you turn thirty and you’re still not married?”

Papyrus thought for a moment. “I’ll become a professional chef!”

Mettaton laughed in his hand. “Wasn’t that the whole point of going to culinary school? Shouldn’t you focus on that first?”

Papyrus shook his head with certainty. “Marriage first.”

Mettaton shoved more ziti in his mouth and spoke with his mouth full. “Don’t you kinda need like. Another person for that?”

Papyrus blushed, frowning. “Hey, I’m working on it!”

More people showed up to the table, putting their conversation on pause. Mettaton took this moment to throw out his empty plate and get a cup of iced tea.

Papyrus wanted to get _married_. Like, _soon_. Mettaton wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Marriage never quite appealed to him. He couldn’t handle that level of commitment. He could barely do regular relationships. If god forbid Papyrus showed any inkling of romantic interest in Mettaton, would he still want him if he knew Mettaton didn’t want marriage?

He sipped his iced tea and suppressed the urge to groan. This crush was going off the rails. He needed to control this thing soon. He was already planning for marriage, for god’s sake.

This was probably for the best. Papyrus deserved someone who would be able to give their whole life like that in devotion. Mettaton wouldn’t be able to handle such close emotional quarters. He liked Papyrus too much to let him see his vulnerable side.

When he returned to the first table, the ziti was replaced with some seafood crap and Papyrus was replaced with another graduate. He tried not to feel too disappointed, instead looking around for his sister. He found Sans instead, drinking ice water by the water fountain.

“I dunno about you, but I’m ready to go,” said Mettaton, drinking his tea.

“Pap probably has to stay here a little longer.”

“He’s not at his table.”

“Taking a break maybe? Finally, I’ve rubbed off on him.”

An older man hurried over to the water fountain, and Sans smirked, which Mettaton thought was weird until the water came squirting out horizontally, getting the man’s tie wet. He cursed and stormed off, Sans chuckling softly.

“Isn’t it a little pathetic that a thirty-two year old hot dog vendor still pulls pranks like a ten year old?”

“Well, uh, thanks for the bluntness, I suppose.”

This time a woman approached the fountain and fell for the prank.

“Tough break! There's another fountain down the hall,” Sans offered, barely hiding his mirth. The woman grumbled something and shuffled off. Mettaton was willing to bet that fountain was rigged too.

“Do you want to get married?” Mettaton blurted out suddenly.

Sans scratched his head, pretending to think. “Gee, MTT, thanks for the offer, but you’re a little too young for me, unfortunately.”

“No--I meant in general!!! God.”

He laughed. “Let me guess. Papyrus told you about his goal.”

“Relationships are so weird. Why would you seek them out like that?”

“Says the guy who’s been in so many relationships he’s lost count.”

“But I never seek them out. They never really mean anything to me, either,” Mettaton said, sipping his drink.

Sans narrowed his eyes. “See, that’s the kind of attitude that worries me.”

Mettaton blinked. “Huh?”

“If you’re planning on getting involved with my brother, you’re gonna have to drop that attitude. I don’t like playing protective older brother, since Papyrus is an adult capable of looking after himself, but I won’t let him enter what he thinks is a meaningful relationship with someone who doesn’t care.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down! Who said I was planning that? I’m--”

“Ok, ok, sorry.”

“I’m not planning that. Papyrus is my friend.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Maybe I was being too presumptuous.”

“Yeah. You were.”

Silence. Mettaton went to drink his tea but there was only ice. Why was he denying it so hard?

Just then, Papyrus bounded over, his robe open and billowing out behind him, revealing his snazzy shirt and tie combo underneath. “We’re going to Grillby’s with my friends! Graduates eat free this week! And tonight’s karaoke night!!”

Sans genuinely grinned. “Awesome, bro. Let’s do it. You know… you’ve been working too hard. All that good catering you did. You deserve a water break.”

Papyrus nodded. “Yeah… yeah! You’re right! Gotta stay hydrated!”

He leaned to drink from the fountain and Mettaton shared a knowing smile with Sans for just a brief moment before Papyrus, too, fell for the prank. Soon all three were bending over laughing.

 

Papyrus was so excited to get out of the car he nearly forgot to put it in park.

“Wow,” said Sans, “I haven’t seen you this excited to go to Grillby’s since I told you he started serving spaghetti.”

“That was a hurtful prank, Sans,” Papyrus said over his shoulder as he stepped up onto the curb.

“I know.”

Mettaton was close behind as the three of them walked into the restaurant and were met with the biggest clientele any of them had ever seen at Grillby’s.

“Well, shit,” Sans said, hands on his hips as he looked around. “Good for Grillby.”

“Is there even a free table?” Mettaton asked, looking around at the packed room.

“Ah, table for five,” Papyrus said to the green-haired teenaged hostess to their left. “Two of us are on the way.”

“Sure. There’s a twenty minute wait,” she said, smiling politely.

“Welp,” said Sans, “I’m gonna get a drink.” He headed to the bar, where Grillby himself was drying a glass.

“I didn’t know Sans drank,” Mettaton commented.

Papyrus sat down on the bench beside the front door. “He doesn’t, not really. He’s probably just going to order a bottle of ketchup.”

Mettaton sat down beside him. “What are you even going to order? I always thought you hated eating here.”

“Oh no….”

Papyrus was looking at something behind Mettaton. Puzzled, Mettaton followed Papyrus’s gaze. Just then, the entrance opened up to reveal Shyren, her sister, and her uncle.

Papyrus gave Mettaton a desperate look. “I’m so sorry, I wanted to warn you, but they passed the window so fast….”

Without thinking, Mettaton stood up.

Shyren did a double-take. “Ohhh, well, look who’s here.”

“What are you doing here, Shyren?” Mettaton asked, calm.

Shyren put her hands on her hips. “This _is_ a public venue, Mettaton. My sister just graduated from SCC and we’re eating here to celebrate. But I don’t need to explain myself to you, dearie. What are _you_ doing here? Don’t tell me you’re on a date.”

Mettaton glared for a moment, but said nothing. He grabbed Papyrus’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s do karaoke.”

“Wh-what? Wait, are you sure?” Papyrus stuttered and Mettaton dragged him away.

“I’m not sitting over there with her for twenty minutes.”

“Fair enough. Um.” Mettaton let go and approached the karaoke machine. A barback was still setting up, but a thick laminated binder sat on a stool in front. Mettaton flipped through it quickly. “So,” Papyrus continued. “What do you want to sing?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He addressed the barback. “I don’t suppose there’s anything in here that’s twenty minutes long?”

The barback shrugged. “I’m not in charge of the book, I dunno.”

As Mettaton flipped, he felt Papyrus behind him, looking over his shoulder.

“Might I suggest a Carly Simon? Or maybe a Taylor Swift. You know. For the occasion.”

Mettaton paused and raised his eyebrow at Papyrus. “I’m not singing a breakup song. This isn’t a movie, I’m not that dramatic.”

“Did I seriously just hear those words come out of your mouth?”

Mettaton sighed. “I mean, I’m just. Not that willing to acknowledge her like that, you know? Besides, I’d rather my theatrics _weren’t_ cliche.”

“Ouch.”

Mettaton stopped flipping and grinned mischievously. “On second thought….”

Papyrus grinned too. “Now, that’s an evil look.”

“I’m doing this one.” He pointed at the page.

“Ohhhhhhh. I don’t get it.”

“She _hates_ this song.”

“OHHHHH. You’re pure evil.”

“Thank you.”

Mettaton pulled a blank sheet from the front of the book and wrote down the track information and his name before handing it to the barback, who set it up right away. Once everything was set, the barback spoke into the microphone in a tired, monotonous voice.

“Alright, folks. Welcome to Grillby’s weekly karaoke night. To kick off the evening, give a warm welcome to Mettaton and Papyrus. Yay.”

“Wait, me?” said Papyrus. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Too bad,” said Mettaton, pulling Papyrus up beside him.

Papyrus was still protesting as the music started. Mettaton took the mic from the stand and posed dramatically as he sang--

“ _I got a pocketful, a pocketful of sunshine; I got a love and I know that it’s all mine, oh, oh whoa. Do what you want, but you’re never gonna break me; sticks and stones are never gonna shake me, oh, oh whoa._ ”

He pulled Papyrus closer to share the mic for the chorus.

“ _TAKE ME AWAYYYY. A SECRET PLAAAACE. A SWEET ESCAAAAPE. TAKE ME AWAAAAY._ ”

Mettaton caught a glimpse of Shyren in the corner, crossing her arms and looking away from the makeshift stage. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get satisfaction from that.

He continued singing the verses alone, while Papyrus did some kind of dance beside Mettaton. He could barely keep from laughing as he got to the bridge. In the last chorus, he posed again while singing the last “ _I smile up to the sky; I know I'll be alright_.” People actually clapped when he finished, and the wide grin wouldn’t leave his face even when they’d stepped down and found Sans by the bar, with a can of ginger ale and a bottle of ketchup.

“Did I fall asleep and land in 2008?” he asked, swirling the contents of his can around.

“Hey, Natasha Bedingfield is timeless,” Mettaton asked, but he was still smiling.

“Nice singing, Paps,” Sans said, winking at his brother.

“I didn’t ask for that,” Papyrus said, glaring down at Mettaton, who shrugged.

Beside the bar, a group of six stood up from their table and gathered their coats.

“Guess we’re eatin’ now,” Sans said, hopping down from the barstool.

Mettaton wished he could personally thank everyone at that table.


	12. graduation part 2: party!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus parties all night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last time someone gets drunk, i promise

The next day, Sans, Papyrus, and Mettaton were in full preparation mode, as they got the house ready for Papyrus's graduation party. Sans and Mettaton had gently attempted to dissuade Papyrus from the idea, but he had his heart set on it.

“I’ve never had a grad party before! I want to celebrate being done with school! Remember the party you threw when you graduated high school, Sans?” Papyrus had asked about a week prior.

“Jeez, Papyrus, how do _you_ remember? You were six.”

“I remember because it was the most fun I ever had!!! DON’T YOU LOVE ME, SANS?”

Sans had finally relented about then.

Papyrus really was planning a big one. He invited practically everyone he knew, and even let most of them bring anyone they wanted. Papyrus had sent out physical invitations (Sans and Mettaton had to fight to hold their laughter when they heard) which discouraged people from bringing alcohol, but Sans wasn't an idiot. He knew the reality of the situation.

He was helping Mettaton bring his things into Papyrus's room when he addressed it.

“So, there's gonna be a ton of drunk college kids in this house in about six hours,” he said as he dragged Mettaton's suitcase up the stairs.

“Yeah, that's what I think too. He can't honestly believe people aren't going to bring booze.”

Mettaton got to the top first and opened Papyrus's door.

When Sans reached the top, he leaned against the top railing, one hand on the suitcase handle. “We gotta be the sober ones. Papyrus is probably gonna end up having a few drinks one way or another. We have to make sure things don't get too wild. Probably the majority of these people are going to be underage, and, well, guess who gets in trouble.”

Mettaton waved his hand dismissively and flicked the light on in Papyrus's room. “We'll be fine. I've had parties without my parents’ knowledge before; I know how to handle a bunch of drunk people.”

“But you have to stay sober, Mettaton.”

Mettaton dropped his duffel bag on the floor by Papyrus's computer and turned to face Sans. “What, you don't trust me?”

Sans wheeled the suitcase in, sliding the handle back down into it. “It's not that I don't trust you. It's just that--”

“Because I got drunk at my birthday party and made Papyrus come get me?”

“Well, okay, maybe you're right, maybe I just need a little more evidence that you can handle this kind of thing.”

Mettaton stepped closer to Sans. “You've met my parents.”

“Before I met you, but yes. I have.”

“I used to have parties almost every week. My parents used to go on these overnight trips, up at Waterfall, in my dad's cabin. For two years, I was miserable one night a week as drunk teenagers destroyed my house. I never had fun, I never drank. Did you know when I got drunk on my birthday, that was the first time I've _ever_ gotten drunk? I can handle one more night of clean up duty, Sans.”

Sans was silent for a moment. “I don't remember Papyrus ever getting invited to these parties of yours.”

Mettaton groaned in frustration. “Seriously? That's all you have to say to that?”

“I'm just kidding, I don't care. Actually, by the sound of these parties, I'm glad he never went.” He winked. “I trust you. Don't worry.”

“Good.”

At six sharp, Papyrus was pacing in front of the door, freshly made appetizers in the kitchen and music playing from the small stereo in the corner.

Mettaton sat on the couch, reading People. Over the top of the magazine, he couldn't ignore the repetitive motion. He put the magazine down.

“Relax, Papyrus. No one ever shows up right on time.”

“Well, that's just silly.”

“Why don't you come sit down?” He patted the cushion beside him.

Papyrus hesitated but did as his friend suggested.

“You've never thrown a party before, have you?” Mettaton asked, facing him.

Papyrus shook his head. “No, but how hard can it be! I know how to have fun. Fun is my middle name. Well, no it's not, but I still like having a good time! In fact, if it gets too late and the party is still going, you're welcome to sleep in my room. I won't be needing it tonight!”

Mettaton suppressed the urge to laugh. “You're gonna party all night?”

“Darn right!”

“Alright, well, I'll take you up on that offer.”

The party started off fun, as most parties do, but it didn't take long for people to start getting tipsy. Mettaton played damage control; putting away pots and pans, saving clocks and bookcases and lamps from falling over, cleaning the remote control when it got spilled on, and at one point stomping out a lit cigarette. Sans manned the front lines, dealing with prevention. He stopped people from going upstairs, and kept an eye out for drug use. All offenders were taken outside by Sans, and Lord knows what he said/did to them, but he always came back alone.

At around 11, Mettaton somehow got roped into some kind of group activity. It was a drinking game, upon further inspection.

“Come on, get a drink!” the college kids kept telling him.

He told them he would, but he didn't. Instead, he quickly slipped into the kitchen, running into Papyrus.

“Your friends are trying to get me drunk,” he said, leaning against the counter. When Papyrus didn't answer, Mettaton furrowed his brows. What was he doing? He stood up and joined Papyrus by the oven. “Everything ok?”

“More wieners,” Papyrus mumbled.

Mettaton took Papyrus by the shoulders and looked at his eyes. “Oh my god, you're actually drunk. You actually drank.”

“Need more wieners,” he slurred, opening the oven, as if surprised there were none already cooking.

Mettaton gave him a gentle squeeze and steered him away. “Umm, maybe stay away from the oven for now.”

Papyrus giggled, a soft jittery noise that sent a chill running through Mettaton. “It's like… like role reversal. When you were drunk. That one time.”

Mettaton rolled his eyes. “Yes, I remember.”

“You… remem--oh.”

“How much have you had already?”

He shrugged. “Someone gave me a cup. It smelled really bad.”

Mettaton sighed. “Oh, boy. Well, just sleep it off soon. Make sure you stay hydrated. With water, I mean.”

“I’m not sleepin’! I told you, party all night!”

Mettaton heard a crash in the next room. “Ok, sure, party all night. I’ll be right back.”

But by the time he was done cleaning up the broken clock, Papyrus was gone. Mettaton felt something in the pit of his stomach. Fear, maybe. Concern. Papyrus had never so much as had a sip of alcohol before, to Mettaton’s knowledge. He didn’t know how much he could have.

By the time one a.m. rolled around, a good amount of people had left and Mettaton was nearly falling asleep at the kitchen table. Someone tapped his shoulder, and he looked up, blurrily meeting eyes with Sans.

“You can go crash if you need to,” he said.

Mettaton opened his mouth to protest, but yawned instead. “Ok, sure,” he said.

Sans squeezed Mettaton’s shoulder briefly before heading to the fridge. “Thanks, pal. You really came through tonight. Not gonna forget that soon.”

“Yeah, you big dumb, of course I did.”

Sans winked. “Goodnight,” he said, pulling out a can of soda.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved and gave a brief, tired smile before heading upstairs.

Papyrus was still down in the living room, talking with his friends, the music off. Mettaton hoped Papyrus was finished drinking. He figured ‘party all night’ meant that he and the rest of his friends would eventually fall asleep in the living room in various positions on and off the couch vicinity.

When Mettaton got to Papyrus’s room, he shut the door, leaning against it in the darkness. He could barely hear the remains of the party from here. Just the faint rumble of voices.

He suddenly felt more awake. Still in the dark, he wandered over to Papyrus’s figurines. He recognized a couple figures from an anime Alphys watched, but most of them were unfamiliar. He picked up a pink robot figurine with some kind of blast gun on its arm. He fiddled with it for a moment before putting it down. He immediately felt bad. Papyrus didn’t like it when people touched his figurines.

He yawned and pulled out his bag from under Papyrus’s bed. When he had changed into a t-shirt and a comfy pair of pajama shorts, he found he was a bit more tired, so he lay down. But he couldn’t shut his eyes.

He stared at the ceiling, his arms up above his head. The party was close to wrapping up. He should be fine for the night. Papyrus had offered the use of his bed. He should take advantage of it. He should sleep.

But he couldn’t. The last time he went to sleep in Papyrus’s bed, he had been drunk. Now that he was perfectly sober, he found he was too distracted. He was drowning in Papyrus. He pulled the covers up to his nose, closing his eyes and breathing in. He didn’t care if he looked stupid. No one was there to see.

As if to defy him, a knock came at the door.

“Mettatonnnnnnnnn, it’s meeeeeeeeee!!!”

Mettaton grinned. “Papyrus, it’s your room. You don’t have to knock,” he called.

He opened the door and stuck his head in. “Oh, wowie! You’re right!” He came in all the way. “People are leaving and I’m sooooo tired.”

Mettaton smirked. “What happened to partying all night?”

Papyrus pouted. “Everyone wanted to leave!”

“I guess you’ll just have to party in your dreams, then.”

Papyrus nodded. “Luckily, I have good, interesting dreams.”

“Good. Well, I’ll let you have your bed back, then.” He started to get off the bed but Papyrus was quicker, crashing onto the mattress beside Mettaton.

Mettaton attempted to climb over him, but Papyrus clung onto Mettaton’s waist.

“You should stay here, just in case I die!”

Mettaton laughed, leaning into Papyrus, still tight in his grip. “Why on earth would you die?”

Papyrus hiccuped. “You’re like. My squishy teddy bear and I’d die without you.”

Mettaton raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m squishy?”

Without warning, Papyrus lifted up Mettaton’s shirt and pressed his face down on his stomach.

“Squish.”

Mettaton yelped, squirming away. But he was laughing. “You’re drunk, dear.”

“What???????”

“I said you’re drunk.”

Papyrus laughed, silly and loud. “I heard you!”

Oh, god. It was like talking to a baby. Mettaton couldn’t get enough.

Papyrus nuzzled up against Mettaton, resting his head on his shoulder. With his right hand, he pulled Mettaton in by the waist again.

“Teddy bear.”

“Yes, Papyrus, I’m a teddy bear.”

“You’re _my_ teddy bear.”

“Yes, Papyrus, I’m your teddy bear.”

“Good.”

They stayed like that, and Mettaton soon shut his eyes, completely content.

He was almost asleep when Papyrus spoke up.

“Mettaton?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love it when you call me darling. I love it.”

“Was there something you wanted to say?” Mettaton asked when Papyrus didn’t continue.

Papyrus lifted his head up, looking at Mettaton. He hovered above him, his right arm propping him up. Mettaton’s heart flipped.

“Mettaton.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Mettaton’s eyes widened.

“Why? I mean, sure??!!? I mean…. _why_??”

His voice had risen slightly. He tried forcing himself to be cool. He could feel himself losing that aloof, sexy _Mettaton_ ness that so many people loved about him. Well, used to love. Papyrus was turning him into a nervous wreck.

Papyrus dropped his head down on the pillow. “Because I want to.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Mettaton was ultra-aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t quite trapped, but Papyrus’s arm was still beside him and he dared not move, lest this moment end.

“Well, um, feel free to? Do that?” Mettaton said finally, his voice rising again. Damn it. Why couldn’t he be cool around the one person he wanted to be cool around?

“I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to kiss you. You… you kiss so many people,” Papyrus said, his speech slurred. “I’ve kissed. One person.”

Wait, what? Mettaton was suddenly interested. “Wait, you’ve kissed someone? I mean! Not that I’m expecting you _not_ to have--sorry, I just… who? Who have you kissed? I mean, you don’t have to tell me.”

Papyrus giggled, raising his head again. “You’re cute when you babble.”

Mettaton’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Who did you kiss?”

“Ahhh….. hmmmmm….. lemme think. The nice cream guy.”

“The nice cream guy.”

“Yeah, we went on a date but he couldn’t handle the great Papyrus!”

Mettaton laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He dumped me! After one date!” Papyrus laughed.

“Aw, I’m sorry.”

“Teach me how to kiss.”

Mettaton’s stomach filled with butterflies. What a terrible saying. It didn’t feel like that at all. It felt like. Glitter. Bursting within him.

 _Keep your cool_. “So, now you want lessons?”

“What?”

“Well, first you wanted to kiss me and now you want me to teach you how.”

“Oh. Yeah, teach me!”

“Um, well. It’s sort of a hard thing to teach. You end up learning by doing.”

Papyrus nodded, squinting his eyes in focus, still leaning over Mettaton.

“And, um. Well, I guess I could just give you pointers.”

“Yes, please.”

“Start gentle and work your way up. One time I kissed a guy who, like, _immediately_ started making out with me. Don’t do that. But also another time, this girl never got more intense than a peck, which was frustrating. There’s a balance.”

“Balance. Okay.” He fell over beside Mettaton. “How many people _have_ you kissed?”

“Oh. I’m not sure?”

“Try and count.”

“There’s too many….”

“Well, how many people have you dated?”

That was a more manageable number. Mettaton took a moment to think. “Nine.”

“Gosh. How do you do it?”

“Do you want kissing lessons or do you want dating lessons?”

“Kissing, please.”

Mettaton stared at the ceiling. “The next thing I would suggest is using your hands. You really can’t go wrong with where you put them, but always be aware of your partner and how they’re reacting to what you’re doing. I like it when people touch my face and the back of my neck.”

Without warning, Papyrus leaned over Mettaton and softly cupped his cheek. “Like this?”

Mettaton nodded, forgetting English for a second. “Y-yeah, good,” he said after a moment.

Papyrus moved his hand further down, caressing down Mettaton’s face and taking gentle hold of the back of Mettaton’s neck. Mettaton closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing heart. His nerve endings were working double time; Papyrus’s touch felt like fire.

Their lips were inches apart.

Mettaton angled his face. “I think the best part of a kiss is the moment right before,” he whispered. “It seems to go on forever. My lips get all tingly.”

Papyrus moved his hand back to Mettaton’s face and ran his thumb over Mettaton’s lips.

“I like your lips.”

Mettaton giggled, louder than he meant to. “Sorry! Oh my god.”

_I should stop this. He’s drunk. This isn’t right._

What the hell? His conscience decided _now_ was the best time to chime in???

Mettaton tried very hard to ignore it, and as Papyrus leaned forward so close that Mettaton could see nothing but him, the voice screamed at him to stop.

Yet he didn’t stop. Not when Papyrus’s lips touched his. Not when Mettaton tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Not when Papyrus shifted his body so he was straddling Mettaton. Not when Mettaton wrapped his arms around Papyrus’s back, pulling him closer.

Mettaton felt Papyrus freeze up on top of him. He broke the kiss.

“Are… are you okay?” Mettaton asked softly, his eyes half-lidded, drunk on Papyrus.

Papyrus cleared his throat. “Y-yeah, I just… Am I doing okay?”

Mettaton nodded. “You’re doing wonderfully, darling.”

“Sorry, I’m just. N-not used to this kind of thing?”

Mettaton smiled and gently pulled Papyrus forward by the collar of his button-up. He put his lips to Papyrus’s ear.

“I can take over if you want.”

Mettaton kept smiling as Papyrus pulled away, his eyes wide. He nodded.

That was all Mettaton needed. In one fluid movement, Mettaton swapped positions with Papyrus, pushing him over and climbing over him so his legs straddled his stomach.

“Better, darling?” Mettaton asked.

Papyrus nodded again, eyes still wide.

Mettaton’s heart slowed and his nerves calmed. This was his element.

He leaned down as Papyrus’s hands hesitated on Mettaton’s legs.

“Go on. Touch me,” Mettaton breathed into Papyrus’s ear. Papyrus nodded again, and brought his wide, calloused hands over the top of Mettaton’s thighs. “Good boy.”

“M-Mettaton….”

“Yeah?” he said, kissing Papyrus’s neck.

“I-I-I don’t feel drunk anymore.”

“Is that a good thing?” Mettaton asked, leaving another kiss at Papyrus’s jaw.

“I th-think so.”

“Good.” He ran his fingers down Papyrus’s chest before bringing his lips back down on the crook of his neck, sucking hard.

Papyrus cried out. “OH mmm...y god, Mettaton….”

“You like that?”

Papyrus weakly nodded. “Y-yeah, wh-what is it?”

“That’s a hickey. Or um, love bite, whichever you prefer. I highly recommend getting good at that. Personally, I love them. Most everyone I’ve been with likes it, too.”

Papyrus’s hands traveled up and down Mettaton’s thighs. Suddenly, however, Papyrus stopped. Mettaton was about to protest when Papyrus tightened his grip on Mettaton’s waist, flipping him over so he hit the mattress on his back, Papyrus once more hovering over him. He leaned down, hesitantly pressing his lips against Mettaton’s neck.

“Um, like this?” Papyrus breathed against Mettaton’s skin.

Mettaton giggled. “Sorry, that tickled.”

Papyrus giggled too, dropping his head on Mettaton’s shoulder.

“Why are _you_ laughing??” Mettaton asked, laughing harder.

“Because it’s _you_!!”

Mettaton’s laughter died down. “What about me?”

Papyrus lifted his head, smiling. “Because you’re Mettaton, and I’m kissing you, and it doesn’t feel real.”

Mettaton held his gaze until Papyrus’s smile fell. “It’s real.”

Mettaton brought their lips together again, slowly, but firm. The kiss quickly turned from chaste to something a little more intense. Surprisingly, it was Papyrus who initiated it. His shyness and inexperience made Mettaton’s heart surge. He responded in kind, rolling them over so his body was fully on top of Papyrus.

Papyrus ran his hands up Mettaton’s waist, holding him there as Mettaton’s hands got lost in Papyrus’s curls. Maybe it was the talking, but Mettaton found he was far more nervous than he was a minute ago, and a million times more nervous than he’d ever been while kissing someone.

This _was_ real. What did this kiss mean? For Mettaton, kissing was more of a chore than anything else. He only really enjoyed it if the person was good at it. And while Papyrus was good for a beginner, he was still awkward. But during this one kiss, Mettaton felt more sensations than he’d ever felt during any other kiss before.

_What does this kiss mean?_

For the hundredth time, Mettaton wondered what his intentions were with Papyrus. He didn’t want to date him. And he certainly didn’t want to marry him. So why was he still kissing him?

“Mettaton,” Papyrus whispered, breaking the kiss.

“Yes?”

“I am. Very. Very. Very. Tired.”

Mettaton tried not to sound disappointed. “Oh. You should sleep.”

Papyrus nodded. “Thank you. For the... the lesson.”

“A-anytime.”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course.”

Papyrus smiled and pulled Mettaton close.

“Teddy bear….” he mumbled against Mettaton’s neck.

In moments, Papyrus’s breathing had slowed and Mettaton realized he’d fallen asleep. Taking a deep breath, he kept his eyes open, his head spinning.

Forty minutes later, he’d drifted off as well, despite his best efforts to stay awake, forever, in Papyrus’s arms.


	13. missed call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton throws a temper tantrum

The next morning, Papyrus woke to a glass of water on his bedside table and an empty bed. He lifted his head up and winced. Ah, so _this_ was the dreaded hangover he'd often heard so much about. What a curious and terrible experience.

At least his stomach was fine. Wait……… no it wasn’t.

He carefully leaned over and sipped the water. He wondered who could have left it there for him.

Suddenly, his heart nearly stopped as his eyes widened in shock. He did a hilarious spit take as the events of the previous night came rushing back to him.

_I KISSED HIM AND HE KISSED ME AND WE KISSED!!! A. A. A. A. A._

He scrambled out of bed, ignoring his turning stomach and throbbing head. He knocked his alarm clock over trying to check the time. From the floor, it proclaimed the time to be 10:18 AM. Mettaton was at school.

Papyrus breathed in and out, trying to calm his nerves. Food. He needed food.

He left his room, heading downstairs. He took a left toward the kitchen, passing Sans, who was lying on the coffee table reading a joke book, an empty mug on the floor beside him.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Sans called out as Papyrus took out a loaf of bread from the cabinet.

Papyrus groaned in response.

“Hungover?”

Papyrus popped two slices of bread in the toaster. “Why on earth do people do this to themselves? My body hates me and my choices.”

“Bet you had fun, though.” He winked.

Papyrus opened the fridge and retrieved a tub of margarine. “Maybe too much fun.”

He bonked his head against the fridge door as Sans came over with his mug. He still didn’t look up as Sans poured himself another cup of coffee.

“No such thing as too much fun, Papyrus. Always remember that.”

“Thank you for the wisdom.” He meant it.

His toast popped up, and as he turned to get it, Sans leaned casually against the counter, drinking his coffee.

“So when were you planning on showing me that golf ball on your neck?”

Papyrus slapped a hand over the bruise, pressing down on it with his fingers and wincing. “Oh, so it’s. It's visible, isn't it?”

Sans smirked. “It's more than visible, Pap. You're gonna need to cover that up.”

Papyrus’s face and neck heated up, making the bruise throb. He kept his palm on the offending area. “Well, um. I should tell you that… that I have no idea where this came from.”

“Pap, you're the worst liar I know.”

“Have you ever woken up with a strange bruise?” He laughed nervously. “That's probably what this is!!! Yes.”

Sans set his coffee down. “Okay, enough playing around. I'm dying to know who gave that to you.” Sans moved Papyrus’s hand to better examine the hickey. He smirked again. “Maybe there is such a thing as too much fun.”

Papyrus squirmed away, grabbing his toast and fumbling for the silverware drawer. “Please forget you saw it!!”

“Papyrus, I’m reading aloud every joke from that joke book if you don’t tell me who gave you that nasty hickey.”

Papyrus slammed a butter knife down on the counter. “OH MY GOD. IT WAS METTATON.”

Sans’s smirk fell. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yes!! You wanted me to tell you!!!!”

He haphazardly began spreading margarine on his toast.

“Papyrus you do realize you are legally obligated, by the law, to tell me everything.”

“No way.”

“I pay the bills.”

“No you don’t! I do! And sometimes Undyne does for us!”

Papyrus tried to escape with his toast but Sans stopped him. “I’ve been listening to you pine over Mettaton for _years_ now, and I honestly think that merits at least a quick rundown of events so I’m up to speed.”

Papyrus looked at the very interesting microwave behind Sans. “Ummmm, well, if you must know. I was a bit tipsy.”

“Tipsy.”

“No interruptions!!! I was tipsy. And I went to my room at the end of the party, and Mettaton was there. And um. Well, I kissed him.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“And then he went straight for your neck.”

“There was build-up!”

Sans laughed. “Well, I’m happy for you, Papyrus. Both of you. Uh, so what’s this mean anyway, for you two?”

A pang shot through Papyrus’s chest. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Oh. Um! To be perfectly honest, I’m unsure.” He scratched his head. “It’s not like I. Proclaimed my love or anything. I don't even think it was a real kiss. He was just teaching me.”

Sans raised an eyebrow. “Teaching you?”

“Please don't judge the life decisions of my drunk self.”

Sans nodded. “Fair enough.”

Papyrus walked around Sans, heading to the couch. “Maybe he was just being nice because I was acting like a fool,” he said, sitting down. Sans followed, sitting beside him. “I’d be surprised if he actually liked me. I-I was being too pushy anyway. I should probably apologize to him.”

He bit into his toast, remembering the simpering look in Mettaton’s dreamy brown eyes as he leaned down, his hair tickling Papyrus's neck as he whispered into his ear….

“You know, Papyrus. This is simply my outsider’s perspective, so take it with a grain of impartial salt. But it seems to me that whatever you’re feeling for Mettaton, is mutual.”

Papyrus slowly crunched on his toast again, looking straight ahead. “Oh, is that. Is that so.”

“So as hell.”

“Thank you for your input.”

“Anytime.”

Papyrus stuffed the rest of his toast in his mouth and promptly stood up, heading toward the kitchen. He leaned against the sink, thinking on Sans’s words. It couldn’t be possible. In the past four years, Mettaton had dated _nine people._ In that same amount of time, Papyrus had been foolishly crushing on Mettaton. There was no conceivable way that his feelings were mutual.

With that settled, Papyrus got to work. As Sans took a nap on the coffee table, Papyrus cleaned up the house. As he expected, Sans had not done much in the way of cleanup, but Papyrus was okay with that. He knew how hard Sans had worked to make the party possible, so Papyrus made sure he tread lightly so as not to wake him.

He was drying the last of the pans when the front door opened. Both brothers whipped their heads toward the sound, then met eyes.

“Oh, yeah. He mentioned today was a half day,” Sans said, setting his book aside and getting up.

Papyrus had no time to respond before the door opened. He stood like a deer in the headlights, drying rag in hand and face hot as Mettaton came in and shut the door behind him.

Mettaton stopped short when he saw Papyrus. “Oh, hey,” he greeted. “Um, don't you have work soon?”

Papyrus didn't speak right away. When it finally registered that Mettaton had asked him a question, he violently shook his head. “Not today.”

They continued to stare at each other without speaking.

Sans stood up. “Welp, I'm out. See you kids later.”

In the blink of an eye he was at the door, putting his sneakers and coat on. Before he left, he put his hand on Mettaton's shoulder and said something to him that Papyrus couldn't make out. Then he was gone.

After a moment, Mettaton took off his backpack and coat. He chuckled. “Honestly, I was expecting you to still be sleeping by now. I was planning on cleaning up.”

“Nonsense! My party, my cleanup.”

Mettaton set his backpack down beside the couch. “I suppose.”

Papyrus quickly returned to his dish, absentmindedly swiping it with the rag back and forth, hoping Mettaton would leave the room soon.

He was so focused on the motion that he jumped when Mettaton was beside him, gently touching his arm.

“Listen. Papyrus. I owe you an apology. I should have left well enough alone. You were drunk, and it was wrong of me to… do that.”

Papyrus faced his friend, incredulous. “You owe _me_ an apology?? It's _me_ who should say sorry! I'm embarrassed it happened, frankly.”

Mettaton took his hand away. “Oh.”

_Oh, dear._

“Wait a second,” Papyrus said quickly, “I didn't mean--I mean, it wasn't embarrassing in _that_ way…”

Mettaton folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “What way? Elaborate.”

“I mean… I was drunk!! I would never do that sober.”

“I see.”

“NO WAIT,” Papyrus continued, beginning to sweat. “I don't mean I wouldn't kiss you sober!! I mean I wouldn't be so pushy about it!”

Mettaton lifted an eyebrow. “So you're saying you _would_ kiss me sober.”

“No!! I mean!! Yes?? I don't know, I'm really stressed right now, I'm sorry.”

Mettaton glared at him for a moment more before the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Okay, sorry, I just needed to torture you for a second.”

“Oh??? Okay??”

Mettaton giggled. “I'm sorry. It's just, I think you're reading into it too much. What happened last night, I mean. Kisses aren't always so dramatic and romantic, you know. You wanted pointers, so that's what I gave. There's no need to be all awkward around each other.”

Papyrus breathed out. “Okay, um, that makes me feel a little better. I think.”

“So how's your retention?”

Papyrus fiddled with the rag still in his hands. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, did my lesson stick? You weren't that wasted that you forgot everything, were you?”

“N-no! I remember!”

Mettaton stepped closer to Papyrus and instinctively Papyrus stepped back into the sink.

“Show me.”

“Uhh, okay….”

He hesitantly let go of the rag with his left hand and reached up to hold Mettaton's cheek. Touch, check. He leaned down so their lips were nearly touching, then paused. Anticipation, check.

But he kept pausing, his lips just barely grazing Mettaton's.

“You do know what comes next, right?” Mettaton whispered.

In response, Papyrus quickly pecked Mettaton's lips and stepped away, face burning. “I remember, see!”

For a moment after Mettaton opened his eyes, he looked… disappointed? It didn't last long enough for Papyrus to figure it out, because Mettaton was already smiling.

“Okay, I shouldn't have doubted you.” He turned on his heel and strutted toward the hallway. “I hope you're prepared for lesson two,” he said over his shoulder before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Wowie.

Papyrus raised his hand to his lips. He could still catch a faint whiff of Mettaton's strawberry chapstick.

He put away the last dish and thought of Mettaton's soft lips.

 

_We gotta talk, kid._

Mettaton gripped the bathroom counter and stared at his reflection. He was screwed. Sans knew. Of course he knew. Mettaton gave Papyrus a hickey the size of Jupiter.

Mettaton was doing exactly what Sans told him _not_ to do, and now Sans was fully aware of that fact.

Mettaton tried to think of other places he could stay.

_Hang on. Calm down. He won’t kick you out. He’s not that heartless._

Mettaton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Welp. Time to get it over with.

He left the bathroom and put on his coat and shoes at the door.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” Papyrus asked from the kitchen.

“Yeah. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He shut the door before Papyrus could ask where he was going, and retrieved his bike from the side of the porch where he left it last.

When he arrived at the hot dog stand, Sans was sitting at the picnic table. Waiting for him.

“Hey,” Mettaton greeted.

Sans looked up from the take out menu he was reading from. He removed his reading glasses and folded up the menu.

“I’m going to order wings, would you like some?”

“Um, no thanks, I’m good.”

Sans folded his hands on the table. “Are you going to sit?”

“Oh. Sure.” He dropped his bike and joined Sans.

“You look nervous.”

Mettaton crossed his legs. “I’m not.”

“Anyway, I dunno what you expect me to say, but I’m not mad, first of all. Maybe I was surprised.”

“Surprised.”

“That you lied to me.”

Mettaton’s heart sank. “Right. I’m sorry about that.”

“You told me you wouldn’t play with Papyrus’s emotions.”

Mettaton let the shame wash over him.

“But,” Sans continued, “you also told me you didn’t have feelings for him.”

Mettaton’s eyes widened.

“And I’m trying to figure out which of these things is the lie.”

Mettaton held his gaze.

“Now I’m going to order my food. Stay if you like, or leave, I won’t be bothered either way.”

He took out his phone and called the wings restaurant. As he ordered, Mettaton considered his options. On the one hand, he was fairly certain he was in love with Papyrus. But on the other hand, he was fairly certain as well that he was not interested in pursuing a relationship with Papyrus. And on the third, mutant hand, he could simply pick up his bike and leave while Sans was still on the phone.

But he waited, and when Sans hung up, Mettaton was still there.

He spoke before Sans could. “They were both lies.”

Sans nodded. “I thought you would say that.”

Mettaton raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“You’re not someone who can easily handle commitment. You like Papyrus more than you’ve ever liked anyone before, and it scares you, so you’re sticking to what you know. The mindless flirting. The kissing ‘lessons’. Because it’s safer than entering a relationship with him, since there’s more to lose.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Mettaton said, standing up and glaring down at Sans. “You can’t just sit there and… and pick my brain like that! You’re making assumptions.”

“You’re easier to read than you think you are, Mettaton.”

“What’s my life to you, anyway? You think you know me so well, but you’re full of shit! What I think or do about your brother isn’t your business, and you don’t control my or his life, you know.”

Sans sat calmly. “You’re right, I don’t. And it’s not my business.”

“Then what do you want from me, Sans.”

“Nothing, I suppose.”

“Good.”

Mettaton got out from the table and picked up his bike.

“But Mettaton.”

“What.”

“If you really do care about Papyrus, you’ll make a decision. Be with him or not, but being in the middle… it’s hurting him.”

“He’s 20 years old, he can handle it. Bye.”

He rode away before he could see Sans’s reaction.

He pedaled faster, not thinking about where he was going until he found himself nearly on the other side of town. It was busier downtown, and he got off his bike, sitting on the curb and resting it on his leg.

He had to fight to keep from crying. Dammit. How the hell was he that transparent?

Was… was he really hurting Papyrus? That’s the last thing Mettaton wanted. Damn Sans was right. He was right about everything. And Mettaton hated it.

He put his head in his hands. He was a burden to everyone he loved. What else is new.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out. Two missed calls and a voicemail.

All from Shyren.

He groaned, raising his phone to listen.

“Hey, so, I know you hate me and whatever, but this isn’t even about me right now. Can we meet somewhere? And please don’t ignore this! Come to our spot. See you soon.”

Mettaton clicked his phone off and groaned again. She knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore such a cryptic message. He wished he had simply blocked her. Deleting her number wasn’t enough, since he knew it by heart.

Resigning to his fate, he got on his bike and rode back to the neighborhood, to the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're nearing endgame, folks


	14. day-old grapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk you're like 14

Mettaton let his bike fall, getting Shyren’s attention from her seat on the rock.

He folded his arms and stood there. This was where they would sit together after rehearsals. The rock, under the oak in front of the school auditorium, was off-limits, but Mettaton didn't like playing by the rules. Or so he told her. She always told him that she loved that the most about him.

“Aren't you gonna sit?” she asked, not looking at him.

“No. What do you want, Shyren.”

“What do _you_ want?”

“Cut the fluff. Why am I here?”

She sprawled out on the rock. “Jeez, moving out turned you into a bitch.”

Mettaton blinked. “I didn't _move_ out. I was _kicked_ out.”

“Yeah, I know, I was there,” she snapped, crossing her legs. She took a lock of her hair and started twirling it. “Have you met my uncle?”

“Randy? Um, I don't think I've ever personally met him. Is he the one you never see but always gives you two hundred dollars every birthday?”

“Yes. He's closer to my sister, so he showed up for her graduation.”

Mettaton nodded. “I saw him with you two at Grillby’s.”

She sat up, scowling. “Yeah, about that.”

Mettaton smirked. “Yeah?”

“Don't give me that look because I don't give a shit that you sang that god awful song. I told you, this isn't about me. My uncle really liked it.”

“Oh, uh, cool?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You remember what he does, right?”

“Not r--”

“He works for an international entertainment company. He wants to hear more of you. I dunno, he's looking for some rookie girls to sign for his company.”

Mettaton's mouth hung open. “He… sorry what? He wants to _sign_ me?? Because I sang _Natasha Bedingfield_???”

“I guess it was more your performance than the voice. Though even for a mean-spirited gesture, it was… well done, I guess,” she mumbled.

He let everything tumble around in his head for a second. There's no way _this_ was his big break. He’d been singing angry revenge-karaoke with _Papyrus_ for god’s sake!!!

His heart flipped when he remembered Papyrus. He forced his thoughts elsewhere.

He struggled to come up with words. “You did tell him I'm not a girl, right?”

She laughed. “Are you an idiot? Of course I didn't.”

“Oh.”

She sighed. “Sorry, that was bitchy. I just mean… You're never gonna make it anywhere with your story. Seriously, Mettaton! Don't give me that look! Walking around in a dress and lipstick and demanding people see you as a guy? That's like, honestly really unrealistic, hon. They'll think you're crazy, or faking it or something. I did you a favor by not telling him. Even though I _definitely_ had every right to sabotage you. You're the one who wanted us all to get famous together. You, me, and Napstablook. Remember?”

Mettaton glared, then softened his gaze. “Yes. I remember. I haven't given an answer yet, you know.”

“But I know you. And I know you'll do it. You have nothing holding you back. No one likes you anymore. Sorry, it's harsh, but it's true. And you're still not planning on college, right? What's keeping you here?”

Mettaton sighed. “Nothing, I guess. Me and Blooky were going to get a place together.”

Shyren rolled her eyes. “They're sixteen. They're not ready to live on their own yet, sorry. That plan was dumb from the start. And at least they still have a place to live right now. You don't.”

“I'm living with Papyrus and Sans.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I wondered if that was true or not. You know Papyrus is, like, obsessed with you, right?”

Mettaton laughed. “Jesus, did everyone know but me??”

“No, like, I'm pretty sure he still is. My sister had cooking classes with him and for the past _month_ all he talked about was you. Sis said it was like high school all over again.”

Mettaton's face got hot. “No way. He's just like that. He talks that way about everything.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. It's just what my sister said.”

“Well, what does she know.”

She hopped off the rock. “So, what, you’re gonna answer me some other time or something?”

Mettaton nodded. “I gotta think about it a little more.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ok, whatever, don’t wait too long.”

“How’s a week sound?”

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “How about three days?”

“Fine, I guess.” He turned around without indicating the conversation was over, picking up his bike and riding away.

He stopped at a crosswalk and checked the time. Almost 12:30. He had an hour and a half to kill before work. He decided to just go home.

He had three days. By Monday, he had to decide between the career he always wanted, and Papyrus. Maybe that was overstating it. But that’s how it felt.

His gut wanted to stay. But Sans made it pretty clear that that feeling was hurting Papyrus. He was better off leaving. Papyrus was better off without him. This was no doubt what Mettaton needed to do. Whether or not he signed with Shyren’s uncle, he needed to get out of Papyrus’s life. Mettaton didn’t deserve Papyrus’s love anyway.

_Love._

Mettaton stopped pedaling and leaned against a parking meter. Did Papyrus love him?

_Yeah. He does._

He knew it, for sure. Maybe he’d known for a while. He’d denied it so hard that even he believed Papyrus couldn’t possibly feel that way for him. But the way Sans kept talking to Mettaton… so knowing, presumptuous, always with that look in his eyes. Like he knew something that Mettaton didn’t know, or at least that Mettaton pretended he didn’t know.

And there’s no way Mettaton could ignore the fact that Papyrus had wanted to kiss him.

_“I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to kiss you.”_

_Always._

Mettaton felt a pang in his chest as the full realization hit him. Papyrus had been in love with Mettaton since day one. Mettaton thought Papyrus had gotten over him after high school. But that wasn’t the case. Mettaton was willing to bet Papyrus was still in love with him now.

He squeezed the handlebars. He had to leave. He had to get away from Papyrus. This would only end badly. He didn’t trust himself for shit. He would effortlessly ruin Papyrus’s life. And Sans was right. Mettaton cared too much about Papyrus to let that happen.

At the end of the street he paused and went straight instead of left. Minutes later he was in front of Frisk’s and Toriel’s house. He’d barely brought his bike over to the back porch when Frisk stepped out to help him. They said nothing, but opened the door for him when they’d finished.

Toriel stood before the sink, washing dishes. Her dark hair was held up haphazardly with bobby pins, which surprised Mettaton. He’d never seen her without her hijab.

“Hi, Toriel,” Mettaton greeted. “Sorry for barging in.”

Toriel put her dish down and smiled, wiping her hands on the dish towel. “It is always a pleasure to see you, my child. Frisk was just telling me they saw you ride up. Would you like a glass of water? All that bike-riding must make you thirsty!”

“That would be perfect. Thank you,” Mettaton said, smiling back. He already felt better about the jumbled thoughts in his head. Toriel had that effect on people.

While she busied herself with getting a clean glass, Frisk dragged Mettaton down the hall.

“We’ll be in my room, Mom,” they called over their shoulder.

When they were in Frisk’s room, Mettaton couldn’t help smirking.

Frisk frowned. “What?”

“‘Mom’?”

Frisk blushed. “Shut up! Sometimes I call her Mom, sue me!”

Mettaton was laughing now. “It was adorable!”

“You know, she actually IS my mom, so I dunno what the fuss is!”

They both turned at Toriel’s soft knocking on the door. She let herself in.

“Hello, children. I have prepared two glasses of water for both of you, as well as lemon slices, selected cheeses with crackers, and red grapes! I am afraid the grapes are not fresh, however. They are one day old. I am terribly sorry.”

She set a tray down with the aforementioned snacks.

“Thank you, Toriel. I bet the grapes are lovely,” Mettaton said, popping one in his mouth.

She beamed and backed out of the room.

Frisk grabbed a cracker. “So, what’s the deal?”

Mettaton sprawled out on Frisk’s fluffy rug, dropping another grape into his mouth. “Darling, I drop by all the time with no warning! Why does there have to be a ‘deal’ for me to visit my dear friend?”

“Because I know you. And I know there’s something wrong.”

Mettaton chewed slowly. Swallowed. “Okay, you’re right.”

“So I ask again. What’s the deal?”

“I… I’m confused about stuff that shouldn’t be confusing.”

Frisk sipped their water. “Elaborate.”

Mettaton lifted up his legs and rested them against the end of Frisk’s bed, so he was perpendicular to the floor. “I guess I just need to bounce some thoughts off of someone else.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I...well, I’m in love with Papyrus.”

“Yeah.”

“You _know_?”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like I read your diary or anything.”

“You know I don’t keep diaries anymore.”

“I didn’t mean literally. I just had a feeling.”

Mettaton nodded, fumbling above his head for another grape. Frisk moved the plate closer to him.

“And, well. I’m pretty sure he likes me back.”

“‘ _Likes?_ ’” Frisk laughed.

Mettaton covered his burning face, groaning. “I’m guessing it’s true?”

“Again. I just have a feeling. Back when I was in middle school and Sans and Papyrus came over for dinner a lot, he talked about you, like, all the time. I mean, you and I _did_ meet through him.”

Mettaton laughed, remembering the day. Frisk had barely started middle school, but Papyrus introduced the two of them so Frisk would have an easier time in high school. The three of them had gone to an arcade then made spaghetti together.

After some silence, Frisk spoke up. “So what’s confusing?”

Mettaton sighed. “I really like him. But I don’t want to be with him.”

“Why not?”

“Because. I’m not fit to be in a relationship. I can’t hold down a partner for more than a few months. I’m just a flirt. He deserves more than that,” he said, the words tumbling out. He felt tears forming.

“So what _does_ he deserve?” Frisk asked a few moments later, as if giving Mettaton some time to recover.

Mettaton coughed and sat up, taking his water and facing the bed, away from Frisk. “He deserves someone who doesn’t question every second whether or not they love him. He deserves someone who wants to spend every day with him for the rest of their life. Someone who…” He coughed again. “Someone who wants to share every part of themselves with him.”

Frisk waited again. “And that doesn’t apply to you?”

He shook his head, tears falling down.

“I think that’s dumb,” said Frisk.

Mettaton just looked down.

“You like him and he likes you. Just be together already, jeez. Adults are so weird.”

Mettaton couldn’t help laughing. He turned and shoved Frisk, who laughed too. “I’ve only been 18 for a month! God! Besides,” he added, his smile faltering, “it’s more complicated than that. I dunno.”

“Doesn’t seem that way. I mean, I’m not a love expert. But it doesn’t seem like the way you’re describing it. Love, I mean. It’s not this, this ritualistic dumping of the souls and minds into a blender and sharing it together for the rest of your lives.”

“What the heck kind of metaphor is that?”

“I mean, you’re not this blend of a new person? You’re still two separate, whole people? Whatever side of yourself you’re afraid to show Papyrus or whatever... It’s not like you’re banned from having a wholesome, legitimate relationship just because he might find out you’re, like, petty or something. And that’s not even important, I think, because if that love is real, he’s gonna accept all that dumb stuff you think’s gonna drive him away. But that’s just the way I see it.” They popped a piece of cheese in their mouth.

Mettaton stared down at his water. “Jeez. Where’s all this wisdom coming from? You’re 14,” he whispered, his voice too cracked to speak normally.

“I’ve spent the last nine years of my life with Sans and Toriel. They know more about love than anyone I’ve ever met. Honestly, you should be talking to either of them.”

Mettaton sniffed and laughed. “Actually, I already talked to Sans a few times about this.”

“And what’d he say?”

Mettaton sipped his water, his smile falling again. “He told me I’m hurting Papyrus.”

“He does care about his brother. That sounds like an exaggeration, though.”

“No, he’s right. I can’t decide if I want to be with him or not.”

“Well, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s hurting him. If anything, he’s going through a similar inner debate. Maybe not as angsty as yours, but he’s got his own stuff to figure out, too. You can’t rush these things.”

“But he’s liked me for years.”

“And haven’t you?”

Mettaton turned to face Frisk again. “What?”

“You’ve liked him this whole time. That’s why you can’t hold a relationship.”

Mettaton sipped his water. He’d had this thought once before, when he was drunk. Maybe it was right.

“I’m teling you, Mettaton. It’s something you just gotta try. I think it’s time you two talked it out, finally.”

Mettaton pulled at the fluff on the rug. “You know, it’s one thing sitting there and seeing the situation objectively, but just imagine being me for a second. Just going for it… it’s easier said than done.”

“Hey, I’m not making you do anything. I’m just giving advice.”

Mettaton’s phone buzzed. It was his calendar. “I have work now.”

“Alright, try not to stare too hard at Papyrus’s uniformed butt.”

Mettaton shoved them again. “He’s not even working today!”

Frisk laughed. “Just leave. Let me know how things go. You can always talk to me, ok?”

He ruffled Frisk’s hair. “You talk to me like you’re my older sibling or something.”

“Oh, am I not?”

“Goodbye, darling. Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“That wasn’t exactly the goal. I want you to take action, damn it!”

From the kitchen, they heard Toriel shout, “I hope I did not hear a curse word!”

“Ears like a hawk,” Frisk whispered.

Mettaton laughed, and on his way out, he hugged Toriel. They followed him outside, and he waved to the two of them as he rode away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you might have noticed there is now an end in sight. I went on a writing spree in the time since I last updated, practically writing every single day, and now the whole work is complete! After this chapter, there are four chapters left. This also means I am going to actually have an update schedule, since everything is already written. I will be posting chapter 15 this coming Friday afternoon (Feb. 26) then the rest of the fic each subsequent Friday, with a projected end on March 18th. 
> 
> A HUGE thank you to everyone who has kept up with this fic. Whether you just started today or have been following it since the beginning, you have really inspired and motivated me to keep it going. Thank you so much for all your kudos, comments, and bookmarks, it seriously means so much to me that so many of you find meaning in my story. It's really very humbling. I really hope you guys like where I take it in the coming weeks. <3


	15. cheeky nandos with papyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11 Reasons Why Everyone Will Hate A Certain Fanfiction Author: The Sheer Amount Of Backstory And Plot Progression Shoved In The Span Of A Few Pages Will Shock You.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want to take a moment and apologize for everything you're about to read
> 
> i dont want to take too much of your time so i will try to keep this short. basically, when i started this fanfiction, it was p much just for shits and giggles. i didn't really ship papyton; i was just testing out the waters (get it... waters.. bc it's a ship...), trying to find out what exactly i shipped in undertale. i definitely wasn't expecting it to be this long or developed, so there are more than a few details i didn't mention at the start that i probably could have if i had planned this fanfiction better, and that includes Sans and Papyrus's backstory. 
> 
> i just want to prepare you guys for it, since it will likely seem a bit contrived and/or unfitting in this particular chapter, especially considering what happens. be patient with me; i want to be fair and give as much to these characters as they have given me, even if it means sticking an ill-timed, poorly conceived Tragic Past(TM) in the mix. just try to enjoy what papyrus has to say. 
> 
> and without further ado, here it is!

Papyrus waited up for Mettaton long after his shift was over, but he never came home. He had just fished out his phone to text him when Sans opened his door upstairs.

He leaned against the second floor railing. “You’re still up?”

“I thought I would wait for Mettaton, but he doesn’t seem to be coming home.”

“Any particular reason you were waiting?”

Papyrus shrugged and looked away. Sans came downstairs and joined his brother at the couch.

“He’s with Frisk,” Sans said when he sat down. “Toriel told me.”

“That information would have been good to know.”

“If I knew you’d be up past your bedtime I would have told you,” Sans joked, winking.

“It’s not that late,” Papyrus said, yawning.

Sans smirked and stood up. “Welp. You should head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hold on. Sans.”

“Yeah?”

“Nevermind. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Papyrus.”

“Goodnight, brother.”

As Sans headed down the hall, Papyrus stood up and made his way to his room. He shut his bedroom door behind him and sighed in the darkness. Without turning the lights on, he changed into his pajamas and huddled underneath his blankets. He shut his eyes, imagining Mettaton snuggled up beside him.

The kiss at the party seemed like ages ago, though it had only been a day. Papyrus was glad he had remembered it. And not just for retention. All day, he'd been remembering how his hands had traveled down Mettaton's waist to his thighs, then back up again. He'd been remembering the feel of Mettaton's lips, the taste. He'd been trying all day to imprint these memories in his brain, so he would never forget how it felt to kiss his best friend.

He was so in love it hurt.

He fell asleep with ache in his heart.

 

The next day Papyrus spent going through his things from high school. He had two crates of four years of quizzes, papers, the works. Sans had recommended keeping one crate for high school and one crate for college, but Papyrus had decided it was time to let go of some things from high school.

Mainly, all the things.

He dumped an entire folder of French assignments and tests in the recycle right away. Bon voyage. Good start. He did the same with anatomy and physics. Next went algebra.

This was almost therapeutic.

Next, however, he pulled out his student government folder. He set that aside.

After meticulously going through his home economics folder and pulling out all the recipes, he found an entire binder full of speeches. No, wait. It was just one speech, with several rough drafts of the same speech. He flipped through it, wondering which one it was. He gave many speeches during his high school career, only some of which were planned.

Oh, of course. It was his valedictorian speech. He found the final draft in the front.

_Friends. Family. Strangers. My name is Papyrus and I am the class of 2013’s valedictorian. But you already know that, of course._

He skipped ahead. He remembered this speech quite well now that it was back in front of him.

_I won't keep you here for longer than necessary with tales of my eventful childhood. But I'll grant you the retelling of at least one life changing event I experienced. It requires backstory._

_When I was ten, I was in a car crash that killed my parents. I was on life support for ten days, my mother for twenty-one before she succumbed to her injuries. My father died in the ambulance. My brother was 21 at the time. I often imagine what it was like for him, at the cusp of his adult life, about to lose his entire family. We don't talk about it a lot, but I am so grateful for everything he has done in order to finish our parents’ job of raising me._

_It was difficult to have a normal childhood after that. I almost failed fifth grade. One of the things my brother did to try and help me was to get a dog. Now, for any other ten year old, getting a dog would be the ultimate gift. But personally, I'm not really a dog person. Her name was Cheeky. The shelter named her that because she had these fuzzy black cheeks on her otherwise white-furred body. I resented her. She reminded me of everything I had lost. I resented my brother. I thought he was trying to replace our parents. And though she often clung to me, I refused to take care of her, or even acknowledge her half the time. My brother got her for me, but she was really his dog in the end._

_We sometimes shared Cheeky Chores, though. CC’s, we called them. I think I probably felt bad that my brother was trying so hard to make me happy. Anyway, one day I was walking Cheeky and she suddenly started tugging me, barking at some small animal. Now, Cheeky wasn't a big dog, but she was strong. I yelled and yelled at her, but she ignored me, barking and tugging until she freed herself from my grip and ran off, leash trailing behind her._

_I ran after her, angry. I couldn't believe she was doing this to me! There was fear in my heart, and after ten minutes of running, I collapsed in the street and sobbed. We never found her._

_Ever since then, I vowed to have more patience. I vowed to honor and love the things I have, and the people in my life. Cheeky the dog was only my dog for a year before she left my life, and not once did I appreciate her. I only realized as I was crying in the street just how much I loved her and wanted her around._

_I don't mean to end our high school careers on a sad note, because I don't find the tale of Cheeky to be a sad one. My brother got her for me in the hopes that she would have a positive influence on my life, and he was right. For seven years now, I've never taken anything for granted. I've learned the value of patience. Negative emotions weigh you down. In my heart, I know I will never fully forgive myself for hating that dog. But what I can do is keep going forward. Live life positively, with courage and patience. Live life fearlessly and remember to make mistakes. The more you make mistakes, the more you will understand. If Cheeky had not run off, who knows what kind of high school graduate I would be today?_

He shut the binder mid-speech and stood up. It was… probably time for a break.

He went downstairs and got himself a glass of water and a bag of baby carrots. It had been quite some time since he last lent a thought to his childhood dog. Guilt washed over him. He popped a carrot in his mouth.

Sans often told Papyrus it wasn't his fault, and while Papyrus knew that to be logically true, he still believed he was responsible.

“Dogs are strong and children are weak. It wasn't your fault, Pap.”

But it was. Had he only loved Cheeky, she would have responded to his cries and come back to him.

He sighed. Nearly ten years and he still wouldn't give himself a break. Maybe it was for the best. Just as his speech said. The event made him a better person overall.

He put the carrots back and got his coat and keys. He decided he’d take a drive. Upon opening the door and stepping out, he was bombarded by a sly drop of rain, right on his forehead. He touched the offending spot with his finger and inspected the liquid.

“Looks like rain,” he muttered to himself. He retrieved his umbrella from the hook on the wall and headed out.

As he drove, he whistled. He always liked to imagine that Cheeky was found by a nice family, and was raised as their own. After all, he and Sans hadn’t gotten around to getting tags for her. The family probably tried to find her owners, but lived too far from Sans and Papyrus, so the brothers never got the memo. They probably brought her to the vet, and when they found nothing wrong with her, decided to hesitantly adopt her, still willing to give her up if her real owners showed themselves. But after a year, two years, three years, Cheeky became part of their family. Also, the family had a son Papyrus’s age who loved Cheeky and played with her everyday.

Papyrus had spent a lot of time thinking about this as a child.

Papyrus drove for a few more minutes before the rain picked up. He cranked up his wipers all the way, and still it poured down.

“Really looks like rain,” he said, lowering his speed to just 15 miles an hour. He slammed on the brakes suddenly when a figure riding a bike turned the corner. The figure, illuminated by Papyrus’s watery front beams, literally looked like a deer in the headlights.

“ _Mettaton?_ ” Papyrus said. He got out of the car, forgetting to take his umbrella.

Mettaton said something to Papyrus but even while shouting, his words were indiscernible.

Papyrus stepped closer, to the front of his car where his shining beams made him squint. He lifted a hand to shield himself from their brilliance.

“I… was just heading home,” Mettaton said when Papyrus was within range. He was looking down at his handlebars.

“Perfect!” said Papyrus. “Put your bike in the back. I'll drive you. We're going to drown out here.”

But Mettaton made no move. Still looking down, he said something else that was lost to the tumultuous weather.

“Didn't catch that,” Papyrus said, leaning closer.

Mettaton lifted his head. “I said, do you love me?”

Papyrus's heart dropped to his knees. “W-what?”

“I _know_ you heard me that time,” Mettaton said, staring hard at Papyrus.

Papyrus swallowed. Wowie, this was coming out of left field! Of course the answer was yes. But was the question that simple? He suspected there was more to it than Mettaton was letting on.

“Do I love you,” he repeated flatly.

“Yes.”

The rain fell still, drenching them. It bounced off Papyrus's car, off the windshield, where the wipers slid back and forth rapidly, working to remove water almost as quickly as the water continued to accumulate. And still it ran down, rolling off the car and dripping onto the road where Papyrus and Mettaton stood, their shoes filling with the stuff.

Papyrus stepped closer. Mettaton looked back down at his bike, water running off his eyelashes and splashing down on his fists clenched tight on the handlebars.

Papyrus stopped when he was close enough to lift Mettaton's chin so they were making eye contact once more.

“Is that really what you're asking me?”

He brought his thumb up Mettaton's jaw and held the back of his neck like he knew Mettaton liked.

“Yes,” Mettaton answered after a moment.

“Then yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Mettaton, I love you. I've loved you since I first met you four years ago.”

With his left hand, he cupped Mettaton's cheek. Mettaton shut his eyes as a tear came down, quickly blending in with the rest of the water on his face. But Papyrus saw it.

“You don't have to love me back,” Papyrus said. “You don't ever have to. But if it takes years, so be it. I'll wait for you however long you need.”

Mettaton looked down, back shaking with silent sobs. Papyrus lifted his face again.

“Is that a good answer?” Papyrus asked softly, stroking Mettaton's cheek with his thumb.

The rain was deafening as it came crashing down around them.

“It's my worst nightmare,” Mettaton said finally.

And he threw his arms around Papyrus, leaning up to kiss him. Papyrus met him halfway, kissing him hard. Mettaton's bike fell to the road, forgotten, as Papyrus's hands traveled to Mettaton's waist. He gripped him tight and pulled him closer, while tilting his head and kissing with such intensity Mettaton had to lean back.

It felt real this time. In fact, this was the realest Papyrus had felt in a very long time. This felt so incredibly, undoubtedly real. And it felt _right._ After so many years, his pining paid off. His feelings were reciprocated.

But there was one lingering thought in Papyrus’s mind.

He broke the kiss. “Mettaton.”

“Mm, yes?”

“Do you love me?”

Mettaton's expression shifted.

He stepped away. “Papyrus....”

Papyrus looked at him, unwaveringly. “You love me, too, don’t you?”

Mettaton suddenly laughed and looked up at the sky. He focused back on Papyrus, blinking away the water. “My love doesn't mean anything.”

“It means the world to me.”

“Sorry, Papyrus. Please don't wait for me. Please just forget about me.”

“How could I--Mettaton!” he called, but Mettaton had grabbed his bike and ridden away, without a backward glance.


	16. too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton has a bad time. Papyrus is filled with determination!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks! The penultimate chapter :3 After this is the actual last chapter, then following that is the epilogue. 
> 
> I'd really like to take a moment to specifically thank those of you who have left comments, especially those few users who religiously left a comment (sometimes two!!) on each and every chapter and I really want to stress how much I appreciate you guys. Every single person who has left a comment. Thank you so much for going that extra step to really show me you are liking what I bring to the table, and that you want to see more of it. It seriously has helped me to shape the story on a few occasions, hearing your input. 
> 
> And plus, it gives me IMMENSE joy to see you guys loving what I have to say. Every time I opened my phone to check my email after posting a new chapter, every time I saw new emails alerting me to new comments, it always made my day, always made me smile. I think my roommate got sick of me constantly gushing and reading aloud to them lol.
> 
> Of course, I love ALL my readers, but I just really wanted to acknowledge the commenters. You guys make my day.
> 
> Thanks for reading. <3

Mettaton pedaled so fast he could barely see in front of him. He sped out in the middle of an intersection, causing one car to swerve and beep at him. When he got to the house, he jumped off his bike practically before he stopped moving.

He sloshed through the front yard, nearly falling into the mud when his boot sunk into the watery earth. He paused, staring at it. These boots had been a gift from his parents last Christmas. Seventy bucks.

He thought back to a time when he had followed Papyrus through the wet grass in the middle of the night, jumping over fences and harmlessly flirting. Back then, the worst thing that could happen was getting a little moisture on his expensive boots. He could hardly believe that was only a month ago. Now he was in too deep. Literally.

He tugged and tugged on his leg, and finally, with a squelch, his boot came free. When he got to the porch, he took both boots off, throwing them as hard as he could into the yard with a crazed scream.

He flipped his hair, took a deep breath, and calmly walked through the front door.

His phone buzzed over and over in his pocket. He took it out. The screen was damp but he could see the number was Shyren’s. He answered.

“Stop ignoring my texts, asshole!” she yelled.

Mettaton resisted the urge to throw his phone. “I’m having a shitty day, Shyren.”

“I stopped caring about that shit when you dumped me.”

“Just tell me when you’ll be here,” Mettaton said wearily.

“Five minutes. God. I hate when you’re in a bad mood.”

“That makes two of us.”

She hung up.

He dropped his phone on the coffee table and massaged his temples. Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it oh too late he’s thinking about it.

_I’ll wait for you._

He could barely even tell if he was still crying. His entire body shook with cold, the water seeping into his skin. Don’t think about it.

He pulled out his suitcase, selecting a clean, dry outfit. When he was changed, he threw his meager belongings together, pulled on his sneakers, and waited.

He sat on the couch, his suitcase on the floor next to his legs. He glanced at it, and without thinking, zipped open the front, where his pictures were.

Mettaton stared at _the_ picture, unable to tear his eyes away, even as his phone started vibrating again. He finally put it down on the table, closing his suitcase and answering his phone.

“We’re here.”

He hung up and put his coat on, shouldering his duffel bag and rolling his suitcase behind him. He opened the door and came face to face with--

“Heya.”

“Sans.”

He stood leisurely in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “I just got the most interesting phone call from my brother.” Sans slowly brought his gaze to Mettaton’s bags. “Going on a trip?” He winked and smiled, but something was off.

“Thank you for letting me stay as long as I did. I really mean it.”

“Not gonna finish senior year, then? You know you only have two full weeks left.”

“I don’t need school. You said so yourself.”

Sans nodded, still smiling. “That I did. Welp, been good knowing ya.” He stuck his hand out.

Mettaton looked at it, looked at Sans. His cold, blue eyes pierced Mettaton, sending a shiver down his spine. He slowly took Sans’s hand.

Sans shook his hand politely, the perfect grip. Then he stepped aside, letting Mettaton cross the threshold. Mettaton hesitantly walked through, turning around to meet eyes with him one last time. A cold chill passed his body. Sans wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Don’t come back.” He slammed the door.

Mettaton looked up at the gray sky. Welp. Another bridge burned. He stepped down from the porch and dragged his suitcase to where Shyren and her uncle Randy waited. It was time to move on already.

What could he say? He wasn't a man of permanence. Never had been, never would be. Perhaps he was finally coming to accept that.

He looked at his hands in his lap as Shyren reached across him and shut the door.

 

Papyrus watched Mettaton pedal away, the rain still falling. Mettaton had been his friend for four years now, and often he was still a puzzle to Papyrus. Good thing Papyrus loved puzzles! Yeah. The air of mystery. Mettaton certainly provided no shortage of that.

He looked down at his hands, holding them out so water could splash down on them.

He realized he was soaking wet, and took refuge in his Nissan. He followed the windshield wipers with his eyes, absently pulling out his phone.

He stared at it. He needed to call him. They weren't done talking. They couldn't be. They had only just started!

He allowed himself a small smile. Okay--perhaps it was a medium smile. And only moderate butterflies in his stomach. OKAY--maybe he was grinning like a fool and maybe his stomach was so full of butterflies he feared they would all suffocate in there.

It had finally happened. He'd confessed his feelings. He must say, he wasn't expecting such conditions. In his imagination, it was far more romantic. And less cold. And. Drier.

His brain was working double time, going over and over every single detail, pressing them into his memory like pressing a flower in a book. Mettaton’s cheek in Papyrus’s hand. His soft lips. The water dripping down from Mettaton’s chin like tears. The way Mettaton’s lip trembled as he laughed bitterly. The sadness in his eyes as he turned and left.

Papyrus’s smile faltered. No… Was there truly no happiness in Mettaton’s eyes as they kissed? The butterflies turned uneasy as he tensed up. Something was wrong. He opened his phone. He had to call him.

_Please just forget about me._

There was something sinister about that. It almost sounded like Mettaton was planning on leaving! But that was, of course, silly. He would never do that.

….Would he? He certainly had a history of running when things got sour. So why on earth would he be running from Papyrus? Papyrus knew for sure his feelings for Mettaton were mutual. They had to be. Certainly being in love with Papyrus wasn’t _so_ bad of a thing to be. In fact, it should be great!!!

He wished Mettaton wouldn't overthink all the time. Why couldn't they be together? They had every reason to be.

Unless the problem wasn’t Papyrus.

He pressed call before he realized he'd selected Sans’s number. But he didn't hang up.

“Hey, bro.”

The words tumbled out. “Sans, I'm afraid I might have made a mistake. I think? I'm actually not quite sure if this is my fault or not.”

“Slow down, Pap. What's up?”

Papyrus took a deep breath. “I just um. Had. A special chat with Mettaton.”

“Special.”

“Yes.”

“...Chat.”

“Well, he. Looked rather distraught. And he, ah, confronted me. About sssssomething.” This time he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

“Papyrus….”

“OH, SANS IT HAPPENED I TOLD HIM I LOVED HIM AND I KISSED HIM AND IT WAS SO WONDERFUL BROTHER EXCEPT Um I think he's really upset about something now.”

Sans was quiet for a few moments.

“Broth--?”

“What did he do exactly that made you think that?” asked Sans.

“Oh. Well, he was crying. Then I think he was mad at me? I'm not sure. He told me to forget about him. Then he got on his bike and left.”

“Did he tell you where he was going?”

“Sans, are you okay?”

“Papyrus, I have to go. Come home as soon as you can.”

He hung up. Papyrus looked at his phone in confusion. But he trusted his brother, and quickly put his car back in drive, heading home. When he got home, he had to drive carefully to avoid running over Mettaton's bike.

He fumbled with his seatbelt, his heart flipping. Mettaton had to be inside. He had to be here. Why was Papyrus so scared?

He ran to the front door, slipping and nearly falling on the way. Sans was waiting inside with a towel for him.

Papyrus absently took the towel and draped it around his neck, looking around. “Where is he? METTATON!” Just then, he caught sight of the picture on the coffee table, rooting him to the spot.

Slowly, he dragged his sopping feet to the darkening living room. Sans flicked on the light just as Papyrus bent over and picked up the photo from graduation.

He clutched the edges. “He's gone. Isn't he.”

Sans said nothing.

“I suppose it's for the best. He wanted glitz, after all. I'm sure he'll find it, wherever he's going.”

Papyrus let the frame tumble out of his grasp and fall stiffly on the carpet before collapsing on the couch.

Sans made his way to Papyrus, sitting beside him. He put a comforting hand on Papyrus's leg. Papyrus chuckled weakly. “Out of all people, why did I have to fall in love with him?”

“Sorry, bro. We can't help who we love.”

“I guess not.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling lamp, waiting patiently for tears, as he'd so often done before. Every time Mettaton dated someone else, every time Papyrus thought he had a chance with him, but was let down at the last possible second. For four years, Papyrus cried over Mettaton. What was one last time?

But the tears wouldn't come. He blinked. “I'm tired, Sans.”

“Want me to read you a bedtime story?”

“No! Well, yes, later, but I meant I'm tired of _this_.” He gestured to himself. “I'm tired of crying over Mettaton. I know we're meant to be together. We always have been! I can't let this end now, Sans!”

Sans smiled sympathetically. “I dunno, Papyrus. Seems like if it was meant to be, it'd have already happened by now.”

“Says who?” said Papyrus, jumping up from his seat, full of renewed energy. He faced Sans. “Do you know where he went?”

“Papyrus, I really don't think you should pursue this. I mean this as nicely as possible. I can't keep seeing you get hurt, bro.”

“And I can't let Mettaton go, knowing he's hurting.”

He leapt to the staircase, climbing them three at a time and jumping into his room, throwing his clothes around until he found a suitable dry outfit. He quickly put it on, turning around just as Sans was pushing open the door.

“Papyrus. He's the one hurting you. You said so yourself.”

“Isn't love supposed to go both ways like that?”

“Paps, that's not love, that's--” He cut himself off, thinking. “It's more complicated than that.”

Papyrus stared at Sans as seriously as he could. “You didn't see the way Mettaton reacted when I told him I loved him. He was crying. And I think I know why. He doesn't think he's good enough. But he is. I want him to know that. Even if he decides to leave anyway. I just need him to know he's good enough. So, Sans. Do you know where he went?”

Sans sighed. “Ok. If this is really what you want.”

“It is. You know what it's like to be in love.”

Sans chuckled, shaking his head. “You've really grown up, haven't you?”

“Thanks to you.”

“Mom and Dad would be proud.”

The brothers smiled at each other.


	17. the fault in our papyton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gay finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll keep this note short and sweet :>
> 
> I just want to say I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! And don't forget, there's still an epilogue :O I'm thinking of posting it in a few days, rather than next Friday like I said. It's pretty short.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. It means so much to me.

Shyren’s uncle parked on the street in front of Mettaton’s house. Mettaton looked at his lap. At this point, he would rather go back to Sans and get literally murdered than take a step in his parents’ house. But it seemed he didn’t have a choice anymore. He’d made his choice.

Shyren leaned over. “Want me to come in with you?”

“No,” Mettaton replied immediately, sitting up straight. “I can do this.”

“Wouldn’t want you to feel rushed now, hon’,” said Randy. “You take all the time you need, alright?”

Mettaton nodded. “Thank you.”

He opened the door and made his way to the front porch. He couldn’t tell if anyone was home; they always kept the lights off during the day. He slowly turned the knob. Shit. It was open.

He decided stealth was the best option. He knew where it was. He didn’t need his parents for this.

He crept through the sitting room, listening at the living room door for signs of life. Silence. No wait--someone just flipped a newspaper page. His dad. A moment later whoever it was cleared his throat. Definitely his dad. Dang it. Mettaton wouldn’t be able to get to his room without going through the living room. He was just about to resign to his fate and open the door when--

“Mettaton, dear!”

Mettaton turned around so fast he thought he might break his neck. There, at the front door, was Mrs. Ex, umbrella in hand and looking fabulous in a long white coat.

“Oh……..hi, Mom.”

She placed her umbrella on the desk by the sofa, still staring at Mettaton like he was a stranger, not meant to be here. And maybe he wasn’t.

“It’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” she asked, all smiles.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“I’m leaving town today,” said Mettaton.

She cocked her head, still smiling. “Is that so? Well, good for you! Getting out on your own, finally?”

“I guess you could say that, yeah.”

“You came to get some things?”

Mettaton nodded. He always did like his mother more than he did his father. She at least pretended to like him. “Just my passport.”

Her smile faltered for a second, but was back in a flash. “You’re going far, then?”

He nodded again. “South Korea, actually.”

She looked genuinely interested. “Oh! That’s wonderful!”

“I thought maybe I would stay with Grandma.” That was a lie.

“I’m sure she would love to have you. I can give you her address, if you’d--”

“Honey, who are you talking to?” Mr. Ex grumbled from the next room.

Mrs. Ex bustled past Mettaton, pushing the door open and holding it for him. Mettaton reluctantly walked through, into the living room. He faced his father.

“Hey, Dad.”

Mr. Ex grunted dismissively in greeting and went back to his paper. “Forget something?”

Mettaton ignored him and headed toward his room.

His mom caught him before he went far. “Hang on! Ed, dear, Mettaton is moving to Seoul to live with my mother. Isn’t that wonderful?”

He scoffed, putting his paper down. “Did your friend Shyren get sick of you already?”

Against his better judgment, Mettaton glared and said, “I didn’t stay with Shyren. I stayed with Papyrus and Sans. And they didn’t get sick of me. I just left.”

His father furrowed his brow. “Papyrus and… Aren’t they Alphys’s friends?”

Mettaton’s mother nodded. “Dear, Papyrus was the gentleman who visited with Alphys.”

He still looked confused, but after a moment he seemed to remember. He grunted again and returned to his paper. “Figures. The man disrespects me in my own home….”

“Good,” Mettaton mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing.” He rolled his eyes and continued down the hall to his room.

The door was ajar, which pissed him off until he realized it must have been Papyrus. He had been the last one in this room. Mettaton turned on the light and looked around. Papyrus had also picked up the place a bit. He chuckled, his heart aching. Why did Papyrus love him so much?

Decidedly miserable, he went to his closet, pulling a box out from under his shelf of shoes. He marveled at it for a moment before opening it. It was full of diaries. He hadn’t touched this box in at least two years. He picked up a random diary.

_Dearest Diary. Dearest, loveliest, 26th diary. If only writing in you were as fun as buying you. Today is December 17th, 2012. Napstablook’s birthday is coming up!!! It’s almost Christmas, too! Which is actually pretty unfortunate because I need to break up with Allie! Here’s hoping she doesn’t look on future Christmases with sadness! Yours, Mettaton._

Yikes. He put the diary back and dug through the others until he found the only book that wasn’t bright pink and glittery. His passport. For his 15th birthday, his parents had taken him on a cruise to Canada. That was the one and only time he’d used it.

He kicked the box back under the shelf and looked around at all his worthless stuff. The dance trophies. The photo albums. The _shoes_. And all his clothes. God, he had so many clothes. Why on Earth did he have so many clothes? He could hardly believe that at one point he was truly upset about leaving it all behind. He turned his back, indifferent, as he shut off the light and left the room for the last time.

His phone was buzzing. He took it out. Three missed calls from Alphys. He ignored them and checked his messages. Six texts from Alphys.

“whats this about u leaving?????????”

“i had to hear fro undyne who heard from papyrus!!!!!”

“WHATS going on omg”

“pls answer my calls mettaton i know ur just ignoring me”

“it wasnt something i did right??? ha ,,, ha”

“im gonna puke mettton plese don tleave me”

His heart sank. His thumbs hovered over the buttons, and quickly blurred as his eyes filled with tears. He typed out, “I’m sorry, Alphys,” before deleting it and putting his phone away. He pushed down his guilt and made his way back to the living room. His parents weren’t there, which threw him off for a second. Then his phone buzzed again. Alphys.

“WAIT SERIOUSLY METTATON DONT LEAVE YET AAAAAAAAAA”

He stared at his phone as she kept typing.

“I PROBABLY SHOULDNT TELL U THIS BUT JUST. OMG. JUST WAIT THERE A SEC OMG”

“HE SHOULD BE THERE RIGHT ABOUT NOW”

“Who??” Mettaton texted back finally.

“PAPYRUS”

Mettaton’s heart lurched. His head snapped up to the window just as Papyrus stepped out of his car, haphazardly parked in the driveway as though he’d swerved in. He ran toward the front door, leaving the car door open.

Mettaton’s heart thudded in his chest. He ran through the door to the sitting room, spotting his parents at the front door.

“My goodness!” said Mettaton’s mother, her hand clutching her chest. “I thought he would drive right through our house.”

Papyrus jumped up the porch steps.

Mettaton pushed through his parents and threw open the door.

“Pap--mmf!” He was cut off as Papyrus flung himself on Mettaton, kissing him. Mettaton’s passport fell to the floor.

“Excuse me!” said Mr. Ex, stepping forward and pulling them apart.

“Oh, hello again!” Papyrus said, beaming. Mettaton looked up at him in awe. “Could I speak with Mettaton alone?”

“This is _my_ house!” Mr. Ex bellowed, looking angrier than Mettaton had ever seen him, even while kicking him out.

“Come on,” Mettaton said, taking Papyrus’s hand and running outside with him.

His mother picked up his passport. “Mettaton! Darling, wait!” she called, but he ignored her. He ran with Papyrus, into the backyard, around the hedges, and across the street.

As they caught their breath, Mettaton looked up at the sky. The rain had stopped.

Mettaton looked down at his hands. “The answer is yes, by the way.” He looked up, meeting Papyrus’s intense eyes. “I do love you.”

Papyrus stepped closer, taking Mettaton’s hands. “Then stay.”

Mettaton fought the tears that threatened to come. “I… can’t. I can’t do that to you.”

“Do what to me? Give me eternal happiness?”

Mettaton laughed, looking down. “All I do is hurt you. Being with me is like being with a time bomb. I’ll just… I’ll just fuck up your entire life.”

Papyrus comically leaned down, looking up so he was facing Mettaton’s downward gaze. Mettaton laughed again. “You don’t think I can handle it?” Papyrus said, grinning. He stood upright, and Mettaton looked up at him. “Because I can handle it. If I can handle four years of pining, I can handle whatever else you’ll throw at me! Besides. I can’t imagine being with you is as awful as you’re making it sound.” He lifted his hand and brushed away a tear Mettaton didn’t even realize he’d shed.

“I’m terrible to the people I date. I once broke up with a girl on Christmas. It’s like half the time I don’t even… It’s like I’m not even myself. I don’t want to lose you. You’re… you’re so important to me.”

“I’m willing to take all those chances.”

Papyrus stepped closer, leaning down so their foreheads were touching.

“Really?” Mettaton whispered.

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“Because I have faith in us. Because I’m done letting you slip past me. Because I’m done being patient. Because life is just... so fast. And we have to make things happen before it’s too late. And because I love you. Mettaton. I love you.”

Mettaton stared up at Papyrus in shock, tears streaming silently down his face. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Papyrus smiled so big and goofy it made Mettaton laugh. Then without warning, Papyrus leaned down and lifted Mettaton in the air, spinning him around as Mettaton laughed and shrieked.

When his feet were back on the ground, he brought his hand to Papyrus’s face and leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss him. Papyrus grabbed Mettaton’s waist, pulling him closer as Mettaton threw his arms around Papyrus’s neck. Then Papyrus, seemingly unable to resist it, lifted him up and spun him around again.

Mettaton laughed, his heart full of love and his happiness genuine for the first time in a long time.

 

 

Shyren and her uncle met with Papyrus and Mettaton at Papyrus’s house, where they returned Mettaton’s things and said goodbye.

“I’m really sorry,” Mettaton said to Randy when the latter set Mettaton’s suitcase down beside him. “I don’t think I could have lived that life. At least not yet. I’ve got to spend some more time figuring things out.”

The tubby man smiled as his niece waited in the car. Mettaton tried to catch her eye but she was looking away, completely refusing to even acknowledge Mettaton. “All’s good, little lady. You got real talent. Whoever signs you is gon’ be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you. And by the way, I’m a guy.”

Randy’s eyebrows raised in shock for a moment before he leaned back and laughed, a hand on his stomach. “Would never have guessed!” He shook hands with Mettaton. “Much luck to you and your endeavors, good sir.”

Mettaton grinned. “You too.”

He drove off as Mettaton looked beside him to Papyrus, their fingers interlocking. Just then the back door opened.

Sans leaned against the door jamb, eating from a bag of chips. “So I guess we’re stuck with you, huh?” he asked Mettaton.

“Sans, I’m really--”

“Gonna freeze out there. Come in already.” He winked and disappeared back into the house.

Mettaton turned to Papyrus. “Did he tell you where I went?”

Papyrus nodded. “He told me he got here just as Shyren and her uncle showed up, and he asked them.” He laughed. “You know, even though it seems like it would fit you, somehow I still can’t picture you becoming a Korean pop idol. Do you even know Korean?”

“Papyrus, I’m half Korean.”

“Doesn’t mean you know the language! I’m a quarter Italian, doesn’t mean I know Italian!”

Mettaton laughed. “Okay, maybe I need to brush up on my Korean.”

“Even more reason for you to stay here. We can learn together.”

“I can’t picture you speaking Korean.”

They stepped up the porch, suitcase in Papyrus’s hand and duffel bag in Mettaton’s, their other hands still laced.

“Try me. Give me something to say.”

“Oh, well now you’re putting me on the spot!”

“Come on, Mettaton, anything at all!”

He was giggling. “I can’t think of anything!”

They shut the door behind them as a dog barked down the street. The sky turned from gray to orange when the sun set. Mettaton was content.


	18. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already said this so many times but I want to thank you all again. Thank you so much for reading. I can't thank you enough.
> 
> OK--now before I get sappy. Future plans for anyone who's interested!
> 
> -An E-rated part 2! It'll just be a chapter, I'm thinking. For all those who wanted some explicit action but never got any. 
> 
> -An Alphyne prequel! Mettaton and Papyrus will be characters, but don't read it if you want to read Papyton because they will be background characters. They will be what Alphys and Undyne were in this story, basically.
> 
> -Another undertale fanfic I've got in the works that's completely separate from this universe. It'll be vaguely Mettasans and will take place in an MTT-ruled Underground. It won't be happy....rip
> 
> So that's what I'm planning. Subscribe to me in order to keep up with all this stuff, if it interests you!! It's been a real pleasure, writing this fic. I'll see you all soon!

“NO, that’s not right! We need to be more centered!”

“Do you WANT this memory to be tainted forever, brother???”

Sans gave a strained smile. “Of course not, Paps. Centered, Mettaton? I thought it _was_ centered….”

Mettaton stuck his finger on the camera’s LCD screen. “No, there’s more space on the left here!”

“You know you can crop it later, right?”

Undyne and Alphys returned from the crowd. “Hiya guys,” Alphys said. “Still trying to take that picture, huh?”

Mettaton huffed, crossing his arms. “We’d be done already if we had a decent photographer.”

Alphys and Undyne stared at Sans. He shrugged. “Everybody’s a critic,” he said, handing the camera to Alphys. “Why don’t you try? You took those fancy lessons, right?”

“It was just one class,” Undyne answered for Alphys. “At the rec center. It was a two night course but she was too lazy to go to the second night, right Alph--?”

Alphys covered Undyne’s mouth. “OF COURSE I will take the picture. It’s _my_ camera, anyway. Th-the camera that I knew how to use after one lesson and didn’t _need_ to go to the second, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

Just then, Napstablook and Frisk made their way to the group, dressed in their all-black choir outfits. “Wow, you’re still taking that picture,” Frisk said. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“Congratulations, Mettaton! Oh… sorry was that a bad time to say that? You seem stressed. I’ll wait til later to talk to you,” Napstablook said, stepping further behind Frisk.

Mettaton’s entire demeanor changed, and he rushed to his cousin, who backed up further, hiding behind Alphys. “BLOOOOOOOKYYYYYYY!!!!!!!”

“Oh no……………” they said, evading Mettaton by hiding behind Undyne, then Sans.

“OKAY METTATON WE GOTTA DO THIS THING NOW,” Papyrus said, hands on his hips.

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry,” Mettaton said, finally grabbing Napstablook and patting their head before returning to his boyfriend. “Let’s do this,” he said when he was next to him once more.

Papyrus grinned. “I love you.”

“You don’t get tired of saying that, do you?” But he was smiling, too.

“Yuck, I’ll barf,” Undyne called from beside Alphys.

“O-okay, get into position,” Alphys said, readying the camera.

Mettaton reached up to move his tassel away from his face before lifting up his diploma. With his other arm, he pulled Papyrus closer. And Papyrus leaned down, kissing Mettaton full on the lips. Mettaton grinned through the kiss, lifting up his leg for effect as Alphys snapped the photo.

“Alright, boys, come look!”

Papyrus pulled away, smiling. He grabbed Mettaton’s hand and they quickly went to Alphys to check the photo.

They looked at the picture then looked at each other, beaming.

“It’s perfect,” they said together.

And it was.


End file.
